


Harry Evans Year 1

by Lizard_Hans



Series: Not Quite Impossible [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Genealogy, Parseltongue, Politics and Philosophy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 53,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizard_Hans/pseuds/Lizard_Hans
Summary: Harry Evans receives a very strange letter from an even stranger turbaned professor, and begins to wonder if his parents were the criminals he was told they were.  How can he be a Muggleborn, after all, if he can speak to snakes?





	1. November 1, 1981

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, this is a work of fanfiction written for entertainment only.
> 
> Warning:  
> Violence against children and animals is included in this story. Also, general discussion of bigotry and abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some editing, and am reposting existing chapters.

There came a knock on the front door of the house at 4 Privet Drive.  It was a very normal house, inhabited by rather unremarkable family.  

Petunia Dursley opened the door, taking a short break from trying to coax her one year old son to eat breakfast.Outside stood two police officers, looking quite grim.One, thin and blonde with a wide, flat face; the other shorter, wider, with graying red hair and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" Petunia asked, "Is my husband okay?"  Her greatest fear was that something terrible would happen to her husband Vernon while he driving to and from work, she saw all these horrible auto accidents in the news every day and knew that Vernon liked to drive as quickly as he could get away with.

"Are you Petunia Dursley,"  the blond officer asked in a slow, even tone, "sister of Lily Evans?” 

Petunia had not heard that name in quite a long time.  She'd tried very hard not to think about her sister over the years, and until that day, Petunia had even managed to near succeed in that regard.

"Yes."  Petunia said in a dull voice, "What's she done now?"  The blond officer and the red-haired officer exchange a glance.

"Mrs. Dursley, we are sorry to inform you that your sister died last night.  She appears to have been living in a vacant building, and there was an explosion.  The investigation is ongoing, but your sister has been identified among the deceased."  the blond officer explained, the red-haired officer nodded along.

"Oh."  Petunia had nothing to say, she'd cut Lily out of her life years ago, after their father's funeral.  "You said there were others who died?"  Petunia had met a few of her sister's friends, they were all a strange, and completely untrustworthy lot.Petunia would never trust the likes of those freaks her sister was always spending her time with, they were a bunch of criminals no doubt.

"We've found five bodies so far."  The red-haired officer said, picking up where the blonde officer left off, "The investigation is ongoing.”

"Is there anything else?"  Petunia asked, not quite sure why the police officers had come.  They could have called, or simply sent a notice.  "Is there paperwork I need to sign?" Another unreadable glance flew between the officers.

"Well, Mrs. Dursley, there is the matter of your nephew."  The red-haired officer said.  Petunia blinked.

"My what?"  Petunia hadn't heard anything about Lily having children, "Are you sure he's Lily’s?"

"We were able to locate the birth certificate."  the blond officer assured her, "Harry Evans, born July 31, 1980.  He survived the explosion.  It’s almost miraculous, he was right in the epicenter, but he survived."  he said, holding up his hands as though to placate her.Petunia’s face took on a pinched expression, the boy’s welfare was the least of her concerns at the moment.

"Usually, in cases like these, the closest relatives are the ones to take the child in."  The red-haired officer gave Petunia an assessing look.  "It is not required of course, but the child's mother is dead, and there is no father listed on the birth certificate.  He can either live with family, or be placed in the care of the state.”

Petunia wanted nothing to do with Lily's child.  She'd never met the boy, and she hardly wanted such criminal influences anywhere near her own son.  But the red-haired officer had said that it would be normal for her to take in her nephew, and Petunia could scarcely imagine the scandal that would occur if her neighbors learned that she'd left her orphaned nephew to the care of the government.  They would wonder if she and Vernon were unable to support a second child, or if they'd been deemed unfit.

No, Petunia couldn't allow that.  Surely a second child couldn't be that difficult to manage.  Food, water, a place to sleep, it wasn't that much.The blonde officer was already giving her a strange look, Petunia forced her expression into some semblance of concern for the boy.

"What do I need to do?"  Petunia asked.  The officers looked immensely relieved.

When Harry Evans was released from the hospital some days later, the small cut on his forehead properly cared for, and the various scrapes and bruises that resulted from the explosion disinfected and bandaged, his aunt and uncle were waiting for him in the hospital lobby with strained smiles.

The nurse who carried Harry out to his relatives was cooing over the boy, he’d become quite well liked by the nurses in the children’s ward, being a cheerful baby, prone to fits of giggles whenever any of the nurses made a funny face in his direction.The nurse said her goodbyes, wishing Petunia and Vernon the best, and assuring them that Harry was going to be a lovely addition to their family.

Harry began to cry as soon as he was placed in his aunt's arms, and the cries turned into shrieking screams when Petunia tried to quiet the boy.  The nurse only smiled ruefully, “You know how children are.”Petunia held the boy rigidly in her arms, with the paperwork signed and stamped, she and Vernon quickly retreated to the car, Harry screaming all the while.

That first meeting set the tone for ten years to come.


	2. A Day in the Dursley House

In the ten years since Harry Evans had arrived at the Dursley house, very little had changed.  The front garden remained green and immaculate, and the mailbox and front door had both been given a fresh coat of white paint.  Inside the house remained likewise the same, though a multitude of photographs of a young-faced blond boy at various ages covered the walls.  Looking at the photographs in the Dursley house, it would seem that only one child lived there, Dudley Dursley.  

Petunia and Vernon Dursley, as much as they might try, found that simply ignoring Petunia's nephew did little to actually make the boy disappear.

Harry Evans remained largely unseen in the Dursley house outside of meals and chores.  When he wasn't at school or doing housework, Harry was often either told to stay outside (which he preferred), or else he was confined to the storage cupboard underneath the stairs.

The cupboard under the stairs was hardly large enough for a growing boy, a narrow space with a steeply slanted ceiling, and a couple shelves where cleaning supplies would usually be stored.  In the Dursley house, no cleaning supplies were kept in the storage cupboard.  Instead, a cot lay on the floor of the cupboard, and the shelves were filled with Harry's few belongings, his school books, folded clothes, and socks.

Harry thought it very lucky that he had no fear of spiders.  Or, maybe, he'd simply outgrown such fears after spending so much time with little else to do but watch a spider carefully weaving its web.If he’d ever been afraid of spiders, it must have been a very long time ago, because as long as he could remember he’d been quite at home with them.  The bare lightbulb in the cupboard gave off a sulfurous yellow light which caught the spider webs and made them shine like copper wires.

While the Dursleys had taken hundreds of photographs of Dudley, and hung dozens of those photographs on the walls of their home, the walls of Harry's cupboard were bare.  Uncle Vernon had once caught Harry drawing on the cupboard walls in crayon when Harry was six, and he'd been so angry that Harry hadn't dared decorate his cupboard walls again.

Instead, Harry kept the things he wished he could hang on his cupboard walls in an empty biscuit tin on one of the shelves in the cupboard.  He's taken the tin out of the trash after Aunt Petunia had finished a box of fancy biscuits with the neighborhood women at one of their book club meetings (which involved far more gossiping than reading).  In that tin, Harry kept a few papers and one photograph, all carefully folded up so that they fit without being crumpled or bent.

Harry had plenty of time to look at the contents of his tin, he'd been sent to his cupboard for a very long time after the incident at the zoo several weeks ago.  Now that school had gotten out for the summer, Harry didn't even get to leave his cupboard for school during the day, and quickly found himself bored nearly to tears.Two bathroom visits per day, and getting lunch and dinner in his cupboard left Harry with far too much time on his hands, and far too little to do.

He looked through the contents of the tin, and imagined that he'd get a house one day, and hang these decorations on the walls.  

The tin contained a photograph of Harry taken at school two years ago (Harry had carefully stolen it off of the classroom wall one afternoon), it was the only photograph Harry had of himself; a drawing Harry had made of himself and his family (three stick figures, one wearing a skirt, and one shorter than the others and wearing glasses, all three smiling); a page Harry had torn out of a picture book at school when nobody was looking (a page from The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin where Old Brown tried to grab Nutkin to skin him alive), and a page from one of Aunt Petunia's magazines that had a very pretty picture on it (a beach at sunset, with a perfume advertisement written across the top).

Harry lay in his cupboard, planning out his future home.  His house would be wonderful, it would be far away from Little Whinging, maybe it would be by the sea.And it would look nothing like the rest of the houses in the neighborhood, not at all, Harry wanted his house to be different.

Maybe it would have towers, or maybe it would be a tree house, the possibilities were endless in Harry’s mind.He would hang the beach picture in the kitchen, and the page from The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin in the living room, and his own photograph in his bedroom, right next to the drawing of his family.  Harry had it all planned out.

Usually, Harry would spend his summers working in the yard most days.  He actually quite enjoyed it, weeding the garden was certainly better than cleaning indoors all day, where Dudley was likely to come and pour juice all over the floor or get handprints all over the windows as soon as Harry had finished cleaning them.  Dudley didn't often venture outside, not unless he was walking to a friend's house or walking to the car, so Harry could spends hours in the garden without anyone bothering him.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon might glance out the window occasionally to make sure Harry hadn't run off or cut any fingers off with the garden shears, but unless Harry started pulling Aunt Petunia's flowers out of the ground, or spraying water all over the garden, he would be left alone.  Sometimes, Mr. Next-Door-Neighbor would even go outside to tend his own garden, and put on the radio loud enough for Harry to listen through the fence.

This summer had been a little different.  After the zoo incident, Harry spent much of the spring term locked in his cupboard whenever he wasn't at school, and once the summer holidays began he was confined there during the day as well.

While it came as no surprise to Harry that he had been punished for the zoo incident, he still didn't quite understand how he could be blamed for what had obviously been the zookeepers' mistake.  Harry hadn't been the one to forget to put the glass back in front of the boa constrictor exhibit after all, and the lack of glass seemed like a far bigger problem to Harry than the fact that the boa constrictor might have talked.

Harry knew, of course, that snakes can't talk.  It must have been a trick of his mind, or maybe the sound inside the reptile house had echoed funny and made him think the snake was speaking when it was actually just another visitor in the reptile house whose voice was echoing so that it sounded like it came from the snake.

Harry couldn't explain the snake pointing and winking, but Harry was quite sure that him talking to a snake had nothing to do with the zookeepers messing up the glass in front of the exhibit.

Harry even tried to explain this argument to Uncle Vernon, shouting through the cupboard door after Uncle Vernon had locked him in.  Harry's argument did not help at all.  In the Dursley family, Harry knew that he would get in trouble when things went wrong.  It didn't particularly matter if things were Harry's fault, or if they were events that Harry could not possibly have caused.

Harry's mum had been a criminal after all, and for the Dursleys, that alone was more than enough to implicate Harry in every misfortune that occurred.  Some things just ran in the blood, as Aunt Marge liked to say, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia agreed with her on that point.

Harry's relatives expected him to be in prison by his majority, after all, his mum had gone and blown herself, and everyone else in the building, up when she was only twenty-one years old.  Aunt Petunia said that his mum must have been into drugs, or maybe she'd planned to rob a bank and blow up the vault, but blown herself up instead, or maybe she'd been selling illegal weapons, Aunt Petunia's stories become more and more elaborate and dramatic every time someone asked her what had happened to Harry's parents.

By the time Harry got out of his cupboard after the zoo incident, it was nearly his birthday, and Dudley and his friends tried their hardest to make up for having been unable to get at Harry for the first few weeks of the summer holidays.  Even the garden wasn't safe from them.

Harry took to wandering the neighborhood in the afternoon, once he'd finished his chores.  He kept a sharp lookout for any sign of Dudley or his gang.  They'd long since lost interest in Dudley's computer games, though Harry thought that they'd probably just gotten frustrated because they couldn't beat most of the games and had given up, claiming that the games were broken.

Dudley once tried to throw the family computer down the stairs because the video game he'd been playing had "cheated" and not let him win.  Aunt Petunia somehow talked Dudley down from that, and got the computer safely back into its rightful place in Dudley's bedroom.

At least Harry had secondary school to look forward to once the summer ended.  He'd be able to go to school without Dudley for once, and Harry couldn't wait.


	3. Said the Raven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is quoted from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, especially the dialogue from the Dursleys. The text of the letter and supplies list are also quoted from the book.
> 
> I apologize if Quirrell's stuttering gets annoying, he's going to be a major character for awhile.

It was morning in late July, and the day was shaping up to be dreadfully hot.  Harry sat at breakfast with the Dursleys, hoping that Dudley and Vernon didn't eat all of the bacon before he could get any.Dudley continuously tapped his smelting stick against the floor, making an awful racket all through breakfast.

Dudley had taken to carrying that heavy wooden cane everywhere he went since he got it earlier that week, apparently it was part of his school uniform for the upcoming term, though Harry couldn’t imagine why schoolboys would need canes except to knock each other in the shins with.

There came a knock at the door.

"Get the door Dudley."  Uncle Vernon didn't look up from his newspaper.

"Make Harry get it."  Dudley whined, taking another bite of eggs and bacon.

"Get the door Harry.”

"Make Dudley get it."  Harry didn't think this would work, but it was well worth a try.

"Poke him with your Smelting stick."  Uncle Vernon said, and Harry quickly got out of Dudley's reach and ran to get the door.  He'd had more than enough of that Smelting stick in the last few days.

Harry opened the front door a little bit, and peeked outside.  The strangest man Harry had ever seen stood on the front step, the strangest man to ever set foot on Privet Drive, Harry suspected.  

He was a thin man with a pale, fearful face, and a large purple turban perched atop his head.  He wore a deep yellow corduroy suit that didn't quite fit, and a purple paisley button up shirt with a very large collar and silver buttons.  The shirt matched the turban, and the entire effect was a bit dizzying.

Harry winced, a sharp pain momentarily flaring up in his forehead, just above one of his eyes.

"M-Mr. Evans?"  the turbaned man said, "I h-have a letter f-f-for you.  Are your p-parents h-h-home?"  he asked, stuttering quite severely.  The turbaned man held out an envelope made of mottled yellow paper.

"Would you like to speak to my relatives?"  Harry asked, opening the door further.  Harry took the envelope from the turbaned man's outstretched hand, it felt strangely heavy.  "You're not selling anything, right?"  Harry had gotten in a lot of trouble when he let those missionaries in last winter, he had thought there were Uncle Vernon's friends from work because they were wearing nice white shirts and black slacks.

Harry looked at the address on the envelope, written in graceful green script.

_Mr. H. Evans_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

Harry had never received a letter before.  Who would mail him?  How did they know to address the letter to his cupboard?

Harry looked up at the turbaned man who stood waiting in the doorway, he stared at Harry, looking nervous, and a bit queasy.

"Hurry up, boy!"  Uncle Vernon shouted from the kitchen.  Harry started, breaking eye contact.  "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?"  Uncle Vernon's laughter filled the house, Aunt Petunia did not join in.

"My n-name is P-P-Professor Quirinius Quirrell."  the turbaned man said, "You h-h-have been invited t-to attend Hogwarts S-School of W-Witchcraft and W-Wizardry."  Professor Quirrell said.  Harry wondered what he might be a professor of, he certainly didn't look like any teachers Harry had ever seen.

Harry slowly closed the front door, watching the turbaned man’s puzzled, and somewhat shocked expression disappear as the door clicked shut.Harry turned and shouted back toward the kitchen."Uncle Vernon, there's a funny man at the door."  Harry didn't want to deal with this nutter, and Uncle Vernon might finally put his shouting skills to good use, "I think you need to talk to him.”

Uncle Vernon came stomping out of the kitchen, and threw open the door, pushing Harry aside.

"We're not buying anything."  Shouted Uncle Vernon.  Professor Quirrell frowned, his right eye twitching.

"I m-must speak to M-Mr. Evans's g-g-guardians."  He said, flicking his right hand in a strange way.  A slim wooden stick appeared in the professor's hand.  Professor Quirrell raised the stick, pointing it at Uncle Vernon's face.

"Now see here-" Uncle Vernon began shouting. 

"Confundus."  Professor Quarrel whispered.  A flash of light shot from the stick.  Harry stumbled backwards, blinking from the bright light.

"Vernon, what's going on?"  shouted Aunt Petunia from the kitchen.

"Allow me to speak to your family inside."  Professor Quirrell said, Uncle Vernon stood silently, "There is no reason to be concerned."  Professor Quirrell continued in a calm, steady tone.  Uncle Vernon shivered slightly.

"Of course, please, come inside."  Uncle Vernon said, tone suddenly becoming cheerful, "Ignore the boy's terrible manners, keeping a man waiting on the step like that."  Uncle Vernon stepped aside, allowing Professor Quirrell to come inside.  Harry leapt to his feet, heard hammering in his ears.  

Something had happened, Professor Quirrell had made that bright light, and Uncle Vernon sounded wrong, Uncle Vernon was never that happy unless he got to order someone around.  Professor Quirrell still had that wooden stick in his hand, tapping it lightly against his leg.

"What was your name again?"  Uncle Vernon asked, leading Professor Quirrell into the kitchen.

"Quirinus Quirrell, P-Professor at Hogwarts S-School of W-Witchcraft and W-W-Wizardry."  Harry followed Uncle Vernon and Professor Quirrell into the kitchen, feeling horribly afraid, but he wasn't quite sure what for.  Uncle Vernon pulled out a chair at the kitchen table for Professor Quirrell.  Uncle Vernon never pulled out a chair for anyone, not even Aunt Petunia.

"Sit down, sit down.  This is my wife Petunia, and my son Dudley."  Uncle Vernon sat down in his own seat, Aunt Petunia and Dudley stared at the stranger in their midst.  "You said you're a professor?  Is this about Dudley's placement exams?  I already called the school, sorted that right out."  Uncle Vernon said. "What's this you said about witches?"  Aunt Petunia looked increasingly concerned at her husband's strange behavior, and the obviously insane stranger her husband had invited into their home.

"N-No, I am h-h-here for Mr. Evans."  Harry stood in the kitchen doorway, trying to make himself smaller as three sets of eyes bored into him.  He clutched the envelope he'd been given.

"Vernon, who is this man?"  Aunt Petunia asked, frowning.

"Open the l-l-letter M-Mr. Evans."  Professor Quirrell instructed.

"Dad, what's going on?"  Even Dudley had caught onto the fact that something was very wrong with Uncle Vernon.  Harry peeled the wax seal off of the envelope, and carefully unfolded the letter.  "What's it say?"  Dudley didn't like being left out of anything.  When Harry didn't answer, Dudley whacked his Smelting stick on the kitchen floor with a loud crack, and made to lunge for the letter in Harry's hands.

Professor Quirrell flicked the slim wooden stick at Dudley, and Dudley slammed back in his chair with a loud yelp, as though someone had shoved him backwards.

"How did you-"  with another flick of the stick, Dudley's mouth continued moving, but no sound came out.

A look of terror filled Dudley's face, and his continued speaking grew frantic, his mouth opening wider and wider.  Not a sound came out.

"My baby!"  Aunt Petunia screamed, "What did you do to him?  Undo it right now."  she demanded.  Professor Quirrell looked rather irritated at the shrill sound of her voice.

"Pet?"  Uncle Vernon looked on, not the least bit worried, "There's nothing to be concerned about."  Uncle Vernon said, a glazed look in his eyes.

Aunt Petunia continued shouting until Professor Quirrell flicked his stick, forcing her back into her chair just as he had done to Dudley.  With another flick, Aunt Petunia's shouts went silent.

Professor Quirrell sat back in his chair, gazing across the kitchen, directly at Harry, who was trying to squeeze himself into the corner, hoping to be overlooked.

"Mr. Evants, p-p-please sit d-down."  Professor Quirrell gestured at the free chair beside Dudley, who continued silently shouting in panic.

"Boy, sit down."  Uncle Vernon echoed in a curiously flat tone.Harry sat down, his plate of bacon and toast still untouched from breakfast.

"R-Read the l-l-letter."  said Professor Quirrell.  Harry, unnerved by the near silence in the room while his cousin and aunt continued to struggle in their chairs, smoothed out the letter on the kitchen table and began to read.

_Hogwarts School_

_of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_Dear Mr. Evans,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  Term begins on September 1.  We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

"Magic doesn't exist." Harry said, though evidence to the contrary surrounded him.  Professor Quirrell stared at Harry, until Harry glanced away, feeling uncomfortable.

"H-Have s-strange thing h-h-happened around you?  Unexplained things?"  Professor Quirrell asked.

Harry wanted to say no, but as he thought about the question, examples sprang to mind.Strange things certainly had occurred around him.

His teacher's hair turning blue, that horrible sweater Aunt Petunia tried to make him wear that just kept shrinking, that time he ended up on the roof while trying to run away from Dudley and his friends.  And then there was the zoo incident.

Strange things happened around Harry, he couldn't deny it.

A knowing smile grew on Professor Quirrell's face, though his eyes remained dark and fearful.

"You're a w-w-wizard M-Mr. Evans."  Professor Quirrell said.  Uncle Vernon's entire body shuddered, his face grew strained, and veins swelled on his neck.

After several seconds of silence, Uncle Vernon erupted, breaking free of whatever Professor Quirrell had done to make him go along with everything thus far.

"Now see here you freakish-"  Professor Quirrell pointed his wooden stick at Uncle Vernon and made an odd little gesture.  Uncle Vernon continued to roar, the kitchen table shook, but no sound came out of his mouth.  Like Aunt Petunia and Dudley, Uncle Vernon was struck silent, no matter how much he spat or shouted.

"Enough of th-that."  said Professor Quirrell.

"Are you hurting them?"  Harry asked. Uncle Vernon's face had turned an alarming shade of purple, and Dudley had begun to sob.  Aunt Petunia continued silently screeching, jabbing a finger in Professor Quirrell's direction.

"N-No."  Harry couldn't tell if the professor was lying or not.

"Can I do that?"  Harry asked, waving a hand around the kitchen table.

“P-P-Potentially."Harry sat back in his chair, wondering at that.  He wasn't sure whether he was shivering in terror or awe.  His relatives were trapped, and silent; totally helpless and all Professor Quirrell had to do was wave a stick at them.  Harry wanted to learn how to do that too.

A realization struck Harry.  He frowned.

"Sir, I don't think my relatives will pay for me to attend your school."  Judging by the spittle flying across the table from Uncle Vernon's shouting, Uncle Vernon's agreed.  Harry couldn't imagine his relatives paying for him to attend a normal school, much less a school that taught magic.

Professor Quirrell looked across the table, a considering expression on his face.  He tapped the wooden stick against the tabletop, and then jabbed it in Dudley's direction.

"Finite."  Professor Quirrell said, and the sound of Dudley's sobbing and wet sniffling filled the room.

"Mr. Evans, w-wait upstairs w-w-with your c-cousin."  Dudley didn't need to be told twice, he bolted from the room, slamming the kitchen door behind him.

Harry followed, glancing over his shoulder at Professor Quirrell, and his Aunt and Uncle.  Professor Quirrell swiped his wooden stick at the door, and it closed shut behind Harry with a loud thud.Upstairs, Harry fund that Dudley had barricaded himself in his bedroom with all the furniture he could find, and probably all his toys too.

"Dudley, let me in."  Harry shouted at the door.

"Go away!"  Dudley shouted back.  Harry tried to open the door few more times, but couldn't make it budge.

Giving up, Harry sat down at the top of the staircase.  He could run outside, go next door and call the police from the neighbor's phone.  Harry couldn't hear anything from the kitchen.  Surely Professor Quirrell wouldn't hurt his relatives.

Harry didn't think he'd ever need to hurt anyone once he learned magic.  Professor Quirrell could make people sit down and be quiet with a couple flicks of that magic wand, why would anyone fight if they could do that?

Harry waited, gazing down the stairs at the kitchen door, his chin in his hands, and his elbows on his knees.


	4. A Pocket Full of Galleons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diagon Alley Part 1.

Harry waited at the top of the stairs for what felt like a very long time.Finally, the kitchen door slowly opened.  Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia came out first, Aunt Petunia clinging to Uncle Vernon's arm, her eyes red and puffy. Uncle Vernon's face was the color of cold oatmeal, and his eyes darted every which way until they settled on Harry, and a shudder traveled up Uncle Vernon's spine.

"Boy, get down here."  said Uncle Vernon, lacking his usual volume or anger.

Professor Quirrell followed Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia out of the kitchen, his shoulders rigid and his expression pinched.  Harry nearly tripped over his own feet in his rush down the stairs.

"We've decided to send you to that-"  Uncle Vernon's eyes darted to where Professor Quirrell stood, "school."  Professor Quirrell gave a small nod.  "The Professor is going to take you to buy your supplies."  said Uncle Vernon.  Aunt Petunia whimpered.

Harry glanced between his relatives and Professor Quirrell.

"Um, thank you?"  Harry couldn't think of what Professor Quirrell could have possibly done to convince his relatives to allow this.  "We're leaving right now?  Are you sure there hasn't been a mistake?”

"W-We should d-depart as s-s-soon as p-possible."  Professor Quirrell said, beckoning Harry to his side.  Harry stepped around his relatives, Aunt Petunia flinching away from his as he passed.  Harry looked away from Uncle Vernon's fearful, angry gaze.An uncomfortable feeling settled in Harry’s stomach, he wasn’t sure whether he ought to be happy or afraid.

Professor Quirrell grabbed Harry by the arm, pulling him close to the Professor's side.  At this distance, Harry could smell the odor of garlic, and something rotten which hung around Professor Quirrell like a miasma.The Professor's grip was strong, and his hands warm and sweaty.Harry shivered, paint lancing through his head.

Before Harry could make a sound, everything went momentarily dark.  Blotches of color and light danced in Harry's eyes.  It felt like pressure being applied from all directions, Harry could feel his limbs stretching, but it didn't hurt, it just felt very strange and entirely wrong.

And then Harry's feet were on solid ground again.

Harry stumbled, hacking and heaving.  Professor Quirrell let go of Harry's arm and watched him struggle to keep his meager breakfast down.  After a few moments the nausea subsided, and the spots in Harry's vision faded away.  The pain in his head lessened, leaving a dull soreness, like a bruise inside his skull.  

Harry rubbed his forehead and looked around.  Instead of being in the living room at 4 Privet Drive, they were standing on the front steps of a large marble building like something out of Ancient Greece, like that postcard with pictures of giant marble ruins Aunt Marge sent when vacationed in Athens the previous year.

Crowds of strangely dressed men and women wandered the street before them, some of them even seemed to be wearing clothes with patterns that moved around as they walked, and hats with large stuffed birds and lizards of various sorts were worn by a few women in the crowd.  Owls swooped low over the street, no one seemed bothered by this at all.  Their strange and wonderful surroundings distracted Harry from the pain in his head.

"What was that?"  Harry asked.  They'd been in one place, and suddenly they were in another place.  It seemed impossible.

"W-We apparated."  said Professor Quirrell, "W-Welcome to D-Diagon Alley."

Harry wondered if the Professor had taken him to another world.  Dragon Alley looked like no place he'd ever seen, not even in pictures.  Everywhere he looked up and down the broad cobblestone street he saw wonderful things.  Objects floating, people shorter and taller than anyone he'd ever seen, a man who seemed to have fire instead of hair, signs advertising such things as "Dragon Scales" and "Spider's Teeth" for sale.

"F-Follow me M-Mr. Evans."  said Professor Quirrell, turning to climb the stairs toward the marble building, "The s-scholarship f-f-funds will p-pay f-for your s-school s-supplies today."  Harry tore his eyes away from the street below, and trotted along at Professor Quirrell's heels.

The sign atop the large metal doors at the top of the stairs read  _Gringotts Bank_.  Harry had never heard of any such bank, and he thought Uncle Vernon had complained about every bank in Britain by now.

"I didn't apply for any scholarships."  Harry thought one usually needed to ask for such funds, maybe even compete for them.  That's what Ms. Brown's teaching assistant, an education student named Jessica, made it sound like when she complained all about scholarships while Harry was in detention one day.

"No n-need.  Any s-student who's f-family w-w-will not f-fund their education w-will be provided f-for."  explained Professor Quirrell.  A strange creature held open the door for the two of them.  At first, Harry thought they were a very short man in red and gold clothing, but looking closer, Harry could see that they weren't human at all.  Their ears were long and pointed, and their faces squat and stretched out as though someone had grabbed them by the nose and pulled.  A pair of watchful yellow eyes followed Harry and Professor Quirrell as they walked inside, and the creature kept one hand on the wicked looking spear at their side.

One inside, they stepped through a second set of doors, this time silver.  A rhyming poem was engraved on the doors, but Harry didn't have time to read it before a pair of the same creatures pulled open the doors, allowing Harrying and Professor Quirrell inside.

They walked into a vast chamber with high, golden ceilings.  People milled about, standing in queues to speak to one of the many creatures sitting behind the long counter along the far wall of the chamber.  Other creatures, like the one at the door, stood at various points along the walls and at every exit, armed with spears and axes.

"D-Don't stare."  said Professor Quirrell.  Harry looked down at his feel, face reddening.

"What are they?"  Harry whispered, following Professor Quirrell to one of the queues.

"G-Goblins."  said Professor Quirrell.  Harry tried not to stare while he stood in line beside the Professor, instead he snuck glances at the goblins out of the corner of his eye.  One of the goblins with a spear in hand, standing by the counter, caught Harry's eye and gave a nasty grin, full of sharp teeth.

Harry quickly looked away again.  Professor Quirrell looked nervous, his right eye twitching.

When they reached the front of the queue, a goblin wearing a fine red suit with a gold watch chain hanging from his shirt pocket looked up at them through narrow, rectangular glasses.

"Vault key?"  the goblin asked.  Professor Quirrell dug through his pockets.

"Hogwarts s-scholarship v-vault."  Professor Quirrell said, passing a small silver key to the goblin behind the counter.  "W-withdrawl of t-t-twenty galleons f-f-for Harry Evans.”

The goblin took the key, and examined it very closely.  Then, seemingly satisfied with the key, turned to examine Harry with equal intensity.  Harry stared right back, somewhat nervous, but mostly curious to get a closer look at these goblins.

"Please wait here."  the goblin said, hopping off the stool.  They walked through a narrow door behind the counter, taking the key along with them.

Harry and Professor Quirrell waited, Professor Quirrell fidgeting a bit, and Harry looking all around the bank, at goblins and customers alike.The goblin came back a short time later, accompanied by a shorter, grayer looking goblin with tufts of white hair coming from his ears.

"This is Fenlock." their original goblin said, waving a clawed hand at the elderly goblin.  Fenlock walked up to the counter, and stared at Harry.

"You are Harry Evans?"  Fenlock asked in a voice like stones scraping against one another.  Harry looked up at Professor Quirrell, who looked somewhat fearful, but nodded every so slightly.

"Yes?"  Harry said, hoping they hadn't gotten him confused with some other Harry Evans.  Fenlock stared a little longer, then came to some decision.

"A vault already exists for Harry Evans."  Fenlock said, pulling a roll of parchment from his belt.  He unrolled the parchment on the counter, it was covering in tiny, spidery writing.  "Sign here to verify your identity."  Fenlock produced a long, black feather quill.  Harry reached for the quill, only for Professor Quirrell to slap his hand away, moving far quicker than Harry expected possible for the Professor.  Professor Quirrell snatched up the parchment and read it very carefully.  Fenlock did not appear offended.

"Why would anyone leave money for me?"  Harry asked Fenlock.  "I don't know any witches or wizards.”

"I am not authorized to give out customer information."  Fenlock said in a bland tone.

"Please, I just want to know-"  Professor Quirrell finished his reading, and placed the parchment back on the countertop, cutting off any argument Harry might have tried to start with the goblin.

"It is s-safe t-t-to s-sign."  Professor Quirrell said.  Harry hadn't even considered that it might not be safe to sign, and he wasn't entirely sure what might make a parchment unsafe to sign.  Would he accidentally sign his soul away?  Or would he sign a contact to work for the goblins for the rest of his life?  Harry looked at the contact a bit more fearfully, but assured himself that Professor Quirrell had made sure it was safe.

Fenlock offered the quill again, and this time Harry took it.

"I've never used a quill."  Harry hoped it was the same as using a pencil.  Fenlock looked unimpressed.

"Place the pointed end on the paper, and sign your full name."  Fenlock said, speaking very slowly.  Harry frowned, he wasn't stupid.

He jabbed the quill point into the parchment, nearly tearing it, and scratched his name.  Ink dribbled across the parchment, and his name was completely illegible.

Fenlock took the quill and parchment, waving the parchment around a bit to dry the ink.  Harry flushed with embarrassment, it wasn't his fault he'd never used a quill, he wasn't living in the middle ages after all.

"Griphook!" Fenlock barked.  Griphook, a smaller goblin, came running out from one of the back rooms.  "Show Mr. Evans to his vault."  Fenlock handed over the parchment, which Griphook glanced at, and then rolled up and placed in a pouch on his belt.

"I w-will accompany M-Mr. Evans."  Professor Quirrell said, putting a steadying hand on Harry's shoulder.  Harry felt relieved, he hadn't wanted to go off with the goblins by himself, especially if they were anything like the goblins in the fairy stories he'd read at school.  He didn't want to get stolen and replaced with a magic tree trunk or anything like that.

Fenlock looked to Harry for confirmation.

"I want him to come with me."  said Harry.  Fenlock nodded, and Griphook beckoned for them to follow him toward a side door at the far end of the room.

Griphook held open the door, showing them down a narrow stone passageway lit by torches.  Eventually they came to a small metal railway, where a little wooden cart came trundling down the rails as soon as Griphook whistled.

The three of them climbed into the cart, with Griphook at the front manning a lever, and Professor Quirrell in the back looking somewhat ill.  The cart jolted as Griphool pulled the lever, and carried them off into the darkness, its wheels squeaking on the rails.

The cart darted left and right, up and down.  Harry couldn't make out anything in the darkness of the tunnels.  They plunged deeper and deeper, Harry could feel the pressure in his ears, like diving deep underwater.  Harry could see a glimmer of light up ahead.  

The cart began to slow, and came to a halt in front of a narrow ledge, and a small metal door.  The torch affixed next to the door burned with yellow-white flames that produced no smoke or sparks.  Harry wondered if the fire was magical.

Griphook hopped out of the cart and unlocked the little metal door by placing his hand against it for several seconds.  A smell like rot and damp stone came from inside, and Griphook took out a second torch and scraped it against the stone floor, lighting it.  He handed the torch to Harry, who held it as far away from his body as he could for fear of lighting his hair on fire.

"This is mine?"  Harry asked, staring into the vault.  He could see something glittering inside.

"The contents of the vault belong to you, the vault itself is the property of Gringotts Bank."  Griphook confirmed.  Harry stepped inside, holding the torch out in front of him.

The vault was small, once inside Harry could touch the stone walls on either side if he stretched out his arms.  He wasn't sure he wanted to touch the walls though, they had a slimy look to them, shining in the torchlight.

A pile of coins lay scattered on the floor as though someone had simply dumped a box full of them there and left.  There were gold, silver, and bronze coins, none of them looked anything like any money Harry had ever seen.

"What kinds of coins are these?"  Harry asked Griphook, who waited at the vault entrance, keeping a close eye on Harry.  Griphook slowly blinked.

"Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts."  Griphook said in a tone which left little doubt as to what the goblin thought of Harry's intelligence.

"Okay."  Harry picked up a silver coin, "Which one is this?”

"A Sickle."  said Griphook.

"How much is it worth?"  the coin felt rather heavy, and Harry knew silver to be expensive, or at least, that's what Aunt Petunia said when he didn't clean her good silverware well enough.

"One seventeenth of a Galleon."  Griphook had begun to sound a bit annoyed.

"Alright."  Harry set the Sickle down and picked up a large gold coin. "And this one?”

"A Galleon.”

"What's it worth?"  Harry asked, Griphook had begun to glare.

"Seventeen Sickles."  said Griphook, and Harry glared right back.

"This one?"  Harry picked up a small bronze coin.  Griphook remained silent for several seconds, then growled.

"A Knut."  Griphook said, "There are twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle." he added before Harry could ask.

"So," Harry began, fully realizing that he was testing the goblin's patience, "How many pounds to a Galleon?"  Harry thought there may well be a hundred of the gold coins, a couple dozen of the silver ones, and a few bronze ones.  It seemed like an awful lot of gold, and Harry wanted to know if he could buy a car, or maybe his own computer so that he could play some of the games he saw Dudley playing.

Behind Griphook, a shadow moved across the passageway.  Harry opened his mouth, intending to warn the goblin that there was something behind him.  A flash of red light filled the cramped vault.  Harry stumbled back, desperately searching for somewhere to hide.  A second flash of light filled the vault, and Harry fell like a puppet with its strings cut.

Harry shook his head, everything had gone funny for a moment there.  He stood up and dusted his pants off.  He must have tripped over a coin or something, at least the torch hadn't gone completely out.  Harry picked up the torch, looking around the vault.  Griphook leaned heavily against the doorway, staring absently at the vault door.

"Did you say something?"  Harry asked.  He thought he'd heard someone say something a moment ago.

"No."  Griphook said in a dull, flat voice.  Harry hadn't realized his questions were getting to the goblin so much, he'd only intended to have a little fun, and he needed to know what the money was worth anyway.  It was hardly his fault Griphook had given such useless answers.

"M-Mr. Evans, are you d-d-done?"  Professor Quirrell called from the passageway.

"Not yet."  Harry called back, "How much do I need?”

Professor Quirrell walked into the vault, giving Griphook a worried glance as he passed.

"T-Twenty g-galleons should b-b-be enough."  Harry quickly scooped up twenty of the gold coins, stuffing them into his pockets.  For once, wearing Dudley's massive hand-me-downs proved useful, the coins would never have fit in his pockets if he'd been wearing clothes that fit properly.

"Is that everything?"  Harry asked, walking out of his vault.  Griphook shuddered slightly, and slowly closed the vault door after Harry was exited.  

"I b-b-believe so."  Professor Quirrell climbed into the cart, quite eager to get back above ground.  Harry supposed the Professor must not like being underground, with the way Professor Quirrell kept glancing down the tunnel, it was as if the Professor half-expected some kind of monster to come and attack them at any moment.

Harry climbed into the cart, squeezing in next to Professor Quirrell.  Griphook stood in the passageway, staring at nothing.

"Griphook,"  Professor Quirrell said, his voice echoing in the tunnels, becoming strangely distorted, as though multiple voices were repeating after Professor Quirrell.The goblin's attention snapped to him.  "Return us to the surface."  With that, Griphook climbed into the cart, and pulled the lever.

The ride back to the surface seemed shorter than the ride down.  Harry tried to peer over the edge of the cart, but saw nothing in the darkness below them.  Once they arrived at the surface, Professor Quirrell sent Harry ahead into the bank while he remained behind to speak to Griphook in private for a few minutes.

After being underground, the bank was too bright and loud.  Harry wandered around a bit, watching the goblins work.  Professor Quirrell found him watching intently as an elderly wizard argued with three armed goblins about accessing his wife's vault, while the goblins threatened to escort him out of the bank if he did not cease shouting.

Professor Quirrell said that it was time to leave, his eyes roving the bank fearfully as they rushed out.  Harry thought it must be awfully sad to be as afraid of everything as Professor Quirrell, and he hoped the Professor could find some way to get over his fears one day.

As Professor Quirrell dragged Harry out of the bank, and back into the sunlit streets of Diagon Alley, Harry noted that the sun had changed positions since they'd entered the bank.  It must have been well after lunch, but it had still been mid-morning when they entered the bank.  Harry hadn't realized how long they'd been inside, the cart rides must have been much longer than he'd thought.

"P-Potions s-supplies are this w-w-way."  Professor Quirrell said, leading Harry through the crowded streets.  They passed several shops that had the word "Potion" in the name, but stopped at none of them.

Instead, Professor Quirrell stopped at the mouth of a narrow, winding alley which branched off of Diagon Alley.  The buildings on either side of the alley were tall and leaned precariously, blocking the sunlight from reaching the bottom of the alley, and leaving it full of shadows.

"S-Stay c-c-close."  Professor Quirrell said, looking down the alley with fear.  Muttering quietly under his breath, Professor Quirrell waved his wand across himself.  His yellow corduroy suit and purple shirt writhed, the fabric flowing like water and changing color, leaving Professor Quirrell in long, purple robes that bore little resemblance to the clothes he'd worn seconds earlier.

Professor Quirrell took a deep breath, and set off down the alley.  Harry walked alongside him, starting at the Professor's robes with wide eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a particular event where this AU diverges from canon, I've got the timeline mostly sorted out, but just assume events during the 1970s went quite differently from canon for now.
> 
> As for why Professor Quirrell is the one introducing Harry to magic, I'm assuming most or all of the professors take part in introducing muggleborn students to magic each year. Professor Quirrell did teach muggle studies before defense, so he'd be a pretty good candidate to talk to muggleborns and their families.


	5. The Potions Master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a bit of the dialogue in the wand shop is quoted from the text.  
> Diagon Alley part 2.

"What kind of magic was that?"  Harry asked, walking alongside Professor Quirrell down the dark, dirty alley.  He mentally added 'clothes changing' to the list of things he knew magic could do, right alongside 'make people be quiet,'  'make people sit still' and 'suddenly be in a different place’.

"T-Transfiguration."  Professor Quirrell said, looking at the windows of the shops they passed.  A couple of elderly women dressed in little more than rags sat on the steps of a vacant shop, watching them pass with large, perfectly round eyes that glinted cat-like in the light.  One woman grinned at Harry, her teeth yellow and jagged.

Harry shivered, and sidled closer to Professor Quirrell, nearly stepped on the backs of the Professor's shoes as they walked.

Unlike Diagon Alley, which had been full of life and color, the windows here were dusty, or even painted over so that no one could peek inside.  People walked quickly with their heads down, and beggars held out their hands for money and food.  Harry glanced at the people they passed, his curiosity outweighing his fear.

One man they passed had strange tattoos covering almost every bit of his skin that Harry could see, and the tattoos moved in dizzying patterns, with strange monsters running across his arms and face.

There was a beautiful young woman standing on a corner, looking as though she were waiting for someone.  She gave Harry a hopeful smile when she noticed him watching, her eyes meeting his.  In that smile there was a flash of fangs, and Harry quickly looked away.

A couple of children played some kind of game of chase in the street, one boy's skin had patches of thick scales, like a crocodile.

Even the vermin which dug in the trash that filled the gutters along the street's edges were unfamiliar.  There were a few rats, though extraordinarily large, but there were also inch-tall creatures like looked like someone had crossed a beetle and a human, and they carried slivers of tin cans and shards of glass like weapons.  A large gray cat sat on a windowsill high above the alley and gave a blood curdling yowl.  The smell of rotting trash grew thick enough to choke on in some places.

"Where are we?"  Harry asked, nearly clinging to the back of Professor Quirrell's robes.  He was afraid, but he also desperately wanted to see everything he could.  This place was so strange, and Harry couldn't stop looking around or else he might miss something.

"Kn-n-nockturn Alley."  Professor Quirrell said quietly, then turned sharply right, leading Harry down a narrower alley still.

They came to a shopfront, the windows painted over inside.  A sign above the door read  _Prince's Potions_.  Next to the sight sat a small statue of a vicious looking gargoyle, or some other sort of ghoulish creature with curling horns and sharp teeth.

Professor Quirrell opened the door, and somewhere deep inside the shop, a bell chimed.  As Harry followed the Professor inside, he could have sworn he saw the gargoyle above the door begin to move.It took a moment for Harry's eyes to adjust to the gloom inside the shot.  The shop smelled very strongly of bitter herbs, mildew, and something like the sink cleaner Aunt Petunia used to get clogs out of the drain.

Professor Quirrell walked straight to the counter in the back of the shop.  Harry followed more slowly, distracted by the shelves and crates and barrels that filled the shop, leaving only the narrowest of walkways to get between them.  He passed a barrel labeled 'Newt Eyes' and another full of 'Stinksap Resin'.  There was even a box on one of the shelves full of unicorn horns, glistening like pearl in the dimly lit shop.

There were footsteps, and the creaking thumps of someone walking down a staircase.  The door behind the counter in the back of the shop creaked open, and a tall, thin man stepped into the shop, looking quite angry.

"H-Hello S-S-Severus."  Professor Quirrell greeted.  Harry crept up to the counter, tearing his eyes away from the barrel of 'Shrew Hearts' he'd been examining, wondering how many shrews it must take to fill an entire barrel.  The tall thin man, Severus as Professor Quirrell had called him, looked tired and in desperate need of a shower.  Dark bags hung beneath this eyes, and his skin had a sickly pallor.  His black hair hung down to his shoulders, looking lank and oily.

"Quirinus, how lovely to see you.  Your orders are ready."  Severus said, making it clear that lovely was the last word to describe his feelings on the matter.  "And you've brought a child with you."  Severus looked at Harry with a dark, piercing gaze, Harry couldn't see any spark of emotion in those eyes.  "Your intelligence never ceases to impress me Quirinus."  Severus said.

"M-Mr. Evans is g-going to Hogwarts this y-y-year.  I am h-helping him p-p-purchase his s-s-school s-supplies."  said Professor Quirrell.  Severus's eyes darted to Harry momentarily, examining him with an unnerving intensity.

"First year?"  Severus asked, looking at Harry.  Harry nodded.  "Tipsy."  Severus barked.  With a quiet pop, a creature Harry had never seen before appeared behind the counter, at Severus's side.  "Show Quirinus to his purchases."  Severus instructed.  The green creature, standing no taller than Harry's elbows, nodded vigorously, ears flapping.

"Master Quirrell be following Tipsy please."  the creature said, turning its large, yellow eyes to Professor Quirrell.

"M-Mr. Evans, I w-w-will b-be b-b-back shortly."  said Professor Quirrell, following Tipsy though the door behind the counter.  Severus and Harry were left alone in the shop.

"Now, Mr. Evans was it?"  Severus asked, meeting Harry's gaze with a blank expression that set Harry on edge.  Harry couldn't be sure whether he'd heard something strained in Severus's tone or if he'd simply imagined it.

"Er - yes, Sir."  Harry thought Severus, like Uncle Vernon, would probably be easier to deal with if he were called Sir.

"Follow me, and keep your hands to yourself.  Many potions ingredients can be dangerous if handed incorrectly, and I will not be held responsible if you melt your skin off."  Severus said, walking around the counter, "Do you have your supplies list?”

Harry pulled the slightly crumpled letter out of his pocket and handed it over.  Severus quickly read through the list, a look of mild distain on his face.

"Jigger is at least twenty years out of date, and Spore's work is useful, but hardly comprehensive."  Severus sneered, "Purchase  _A Potioneer's Companion_ by Sylva Green, and  _Elements of Successful Brewing_ by Claudius Thistleweight." Harry nodded, trying to commit those titles to memory.

Severus retrieved a wooden box, about the size of an encyclopedia, off of a shelf.  He opened the box, and showed Harry the interior.  The interior of the box was divided into fifteen smaller boxed by narrow wooden dividers.

"This is a dry ingredients box.  You are never to place wet ingredients in this box."  Severus explained, "Do you understand?"  He added after a moment, his tone going sharp.

"Yes, Sir.”Severus handed the box to Harry, and began stalking the aisles of the shop, walking silently, his black robes fluttering in his wake.  Occasionally he stopped, and took a small scoop of something from some box or barrel, and placed it into one of the compartments in the dry ingredients box.

"Sir, I don't think these are on my supplies list."  Harry said as Severus dropped a handful of dried sparrow's feet into the ingredients box.  Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Slughorn is an imbecile."  Severus said, though Harry hadn't the slightest clue who or what a Slughorn might be.  "These ingredients are necessary for the most basic of potions, and a personal supply is a matter of safety, regardless of what that man would have you believe."  Severus's lips curled into a snarl, "Unless you wish to use classroom ingredients that have been manhandled and mis-stored, and risk catastrophic cross contamination accidents, you will use your own personal set of ingredients."  Severus explained, as though Harry were quite stupid not to already know this.

Harry wondered just what Slughorn, who- or what-ever that was, had done to Severus to make such a bad impression on the man.

By the time Tipsy brought Professor Quirrell back, with the Professor holding a small package wrapped in newspaper under his arm, Severus had finished filling the dry ingredients box and moved on to explaining to Harry just why cauldron safety standards were vital, with increasingly gruesome anecdotes.

"Some dunderheads will buy the cheapest cauldron they can find, but rest assured, that it the fastest route to disfigurement, sub-par potions, and death in a fiery explosion."  said Severus, handing Harry a small cauldron with a number two drawn on the side in white chalk.

"I am s-s-sure that P-Professor S-S-Slughorn w-will prevent such c-catastrophes."  said Professor Quirrell, walking over to where Severus and Harry stood next to a large pile of gleaming black cauldrons.

"Don't count on it."  Severus muttered, just loud enough for Harry to hear.  To Professor Quirrell, he said, "Quirinus, is everything to your liking?”

"Y-Yes, very m-much so."  Professor Quirrell patted the small newspaper wrapped package he held, and slipped it not his pocket.  The package seemingly vanished, leaving no lump or outline in Professor Quirrell's robes.

"The ingredients, scale, and cauldrons will be six Galleons, Mr. Evans."  Severus said, and Harry quickly rifled through his pockets for the correct coins, dropping them one by one into Severus's outstretched hand.  "Quirinus?"  Severus asked, prompting the Professor for payment as well.

Professor Quirrell took a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it over.  Harry couldn't see what was written on the paper, but Severus glanced at it, and quickly folded the paper up and tucked it out of sight, seemingly satisfied.

"C-C-Come along M-Mr. Evans."  Professor Quirrell said, making to leave the shop.  "W-We have m-much to do.”

"Thank you Mr. Severus."  Harry said, trying to pick up all of his new potions supplies.

"That's Mr. Snape." Severus corrected, and with a flick of his wrist, his wand appeared in his hand.  He quickly tapped each of the packages Harry was trying, and failing, to carry, and shrunk them each down to a small fraction of their original size.  Now, all of Harry's potions supplies had become small enough to fit in a match book.

"They'll change back ,right?"  Harry put the tiny cauldron, scale, and ingredients box into his pocket.

"Simply tap your supplies with your wand and they will return to their full size." Again, Severus's tone made Harry feel quite foolish for having asked.

"Thank you."  Harry hadn't purchased a wand yet, but he knew that a wand was on his supplies list, so he supposed he would be getting one eventually.  Harry made for the door, Professor Quirrell had already gone outside and Harry hoped the Professor wouldn't leave without him.

"Mr. Evans,"  Severus said.  Harry turned around, and for a moment Severus stared at him, their eyes meeting.  "Never mind."  Severus shook his head slightly, "Be careful, Mr. Evans.”

"Okay Mr. Snape, I'll try?"  Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to that.  He left the shop, leaving Severus standing by the counter.

Thankfully, Professor Quirrell was waiting just outside, looking nervous and impatient.  They walked back to Diagon Alley, but Knockturn Alley looked far brighter and less threatening after being in the dimly lit potion shop. It still stunk though.

Next, they stopped at a shop called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.Professor Quirrell examined the scarves and shawls while Madam Malkin, a short witch in mauve robes, forced Harry to stand still in the back of the shop so that she could measure him.  She threatened to prick him with pins if he didn't stop fidgeting.

Harry couldn't recall ever owning clothing that hadn't been Dudley's first.  As Madam Malkin adjusted the robes, making sure they fit him, Harry found that clothes which didn't hang of his frame were somewhat uncomfortable.  He'd gotten used to everything being several sizes too large.

The only other customer in the shop was an elderly woman getting robes fitted.  Her robes were bright purple, covered in lacy frills and red velvet accents.  She was quite taken with the design, and said that she planned to wear the robes to her grandson's wedding in a few weeks.

After purchasing the uniforms, Harry found he'd already run through almost half of the money he'd taken from his vault.  Professor Quirrell assured him that it would be enough,

"W-Wands are the only ex-x-xpensive p-purchase l-l-left."  He said, as he helped Harry purchase parchment, ink, quills, and a suitable quill knife.  Harry hadn't the slightest clue how to use any of these items.  Once Harry had paid for the writing utensils, Professor Quirrell shrunk down the bag, just as Severus had done with the potions supplies.

"I don't know how to write with a quill, Professor."  Harry had realized at the bank that writing with a quill was quite different than writing with a pencil.

"P-Practice."  Professor Quirrell suggested.  Harry nodded, a bit glum, he'd hoped for more useful advice than that.

Professor Quirrell led the way to a book shop called Flourish and Blotts to pick up Harry's school books.  As soon as they entered the shop, Professor Quirrell became more energetic, an extra bounce in his step.  Books were stacked on shelves from the floor to the ceiling, and the books came in every size and shape imaginable, and in languages Harry had never seen.  Some of the books even seemed to be alive, kept in a special metal cage near the back of the shop.

Harry had never been much of a bookworm, but his heart did speed up a bit at the sight of the shop.  Professor Quirrell clearly knew exactly where to go to find Harry's school books, and stalked around the aisles like a cat hunting for mice.

"Mr. Snape said I should buy  _The Potioneer's Companion_  and  _Elements of Successful Brewing_.  I think that last one's by something Thistlegate?"  Harry said once they'd reached the potions section.

"H-How h-h-helpful of h-him."  Professor Quirrell said, quickly finding the books in question and adding them to Harry's basket.

_The Potioneer's Companion_ was an extremely large leather bound tome, larger even than the dictionary Aunt Petunia kept in the living room even though no one ever read it. _Elements of Successful Brewing_ on the other hand was a slim volume with a sleek black cover.

Professor Quirrell picked up a few books of his own from the same section as  _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection_.  Harry picked up a book which sounded very interesting,  _Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch You Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)_  by Professor Vindictus Viridian.  Harry thought that cursing Dudley might be amusing.

Professor Quirrell snatched the book from Harry's hands and scoffed.

"M-Mr. Evans, if you h-have an interest in c-c-curses, there are m-much m-m-more suitable t-texts."  Professor Quirrell placed Curses and Counter-curses back on the shelf, and picked out a text from several shelves higher, handing it to Harry.  Harry glanced at the embossed title.

_Evolution of Darkness: A History of Regulated Magics and their Practitioners_ by Apis Black.

It sounded extremely dull, and Harry frowned, disappointed.

"Now, M-Mr. Evans,"  Professor Quirrell said in a quiet voice, "Understanding the l-legal s-s-standing of c-curses is v-verry important b-b-before attempting t-t-to use s-such magic."  Harry sighed, and added the book to his basket, unconvinced by Professor Quirrell's words.  Harry had almost forgotten that Professor Quirrell was, in fact, a teacher, and that teachers always seem to recommend the more boring books imaginable.

After they'd finished purchasing books, they went next door and Professor Quirrell helped Harry select a telescope.  Harry bought a nice little collapsable model that he thought looked like something a pirate would use.  Harry quite liked it.

"I think that's everything except the wand."  Harry said, reading his supply list as they walked down Diagon Alley once more.

Professor Quirrell led the way to a shabby looking shop in a quiet corner of Diagon Alley.  Gold letters over the door, peeling away in places, read  _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ , and the only thing Harry could see in the front window was a single wand, and a thick layer of dust.

"B.C.?"  Harry asked, thinking that couldn't possible be correct.

"That is w-what they c-c-claim."  Professor Quirrell said, opening the door.

Inside the shop was a single chair, and row upon row of shelves piled high with thousands of narrow boxes.  The shelves went on and on, into the darkness at the back of the shop, and Harry could not see where they ended.

The air in the shop felt charged, like the moments before a rainstorm started.  Sunlight streamed in through the front window, making the air glitter with specks of dust.

"Good afternoon."  Harry jumped slightly at the voice, and Professor Quirrell went rigid and still.  A very old man stood between two rows of shelves, though Harry was sure he hadn't been there a second ago.  The old man's eyes were large and pale, staring at Harry in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Hello." said Harry, and Professor Quirrel squeaked something that might have been a greeting, the Professor was still collecting himself after the scare he'd gotten.

"You look familiar."  the old man said, continuing to stare, "I didn't think I'd be seeing another Potter...or is it Black?"  Harry hadn't a clue what the old man was going on about.

"My name's Harry Evans." he said, wondering if Mr. Ollivander was perhaps losing his memory.

"M-Mr. Evans is a m-m-muggleborn."  Professor Quirrell addded.  Harry hadn't heard that word before, but Mr. Ollivander simply nodded, but gave Harry an odd look.

"If you say so."  Mr. Ollivander said, then turned his gaze to Professor Quirrell.  "Ah, Quirinus Quirrell, nine inches long, flighty, alder wood.  A good wand for healing."  Mr. Ollivander said, Professor Quirrell twitched under that eerie pale stare.  "In good condition I trust?"  Professor Quirrell looked intensely uncomfortable.

"Y-Y-Yes."  Professor Quirrell struggled more than usual to get the word out.  Mr. Ollivander hummed slightly in agreement, and turned back to Harry, stepping closer, and pulling out a long tape measure with silver markings from his pocket.

"Which is your wand arm?"  Mr. Ollivander asked.

"I'm right handed."  Harry hoped that was what Mr. Ollivander meant.

"Hold out your arm, that's it."  Mr. Ollivander began to measure Harry; shoulder to finger, shoulder to wrist, finger to wrist, wrist to elbow, every possible measurement that could be made.  Mr. Ollivander spoke as he worked,

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Evans." He explained, going on to add that every unicorn, dragon, and phoenix was a unique creature.  "You will never get such good results with another wizard's wand.”

The measuring tape had taken on a life of its own by now, and started measuring the distance between Harry's nostrils while Mr. Ollivander started grabbing boxes from various shelves.

"That will do."  Mr. Ollivander said, and the tape measure fell to the floor, as lifeless as any other tape measure.

"Beechwood and dragon heartstring."  Mr. Ollivander said, handing Harry a wand, "Give it a wave."  Harry did as ordered, and the wand was snatched out of his hand immediately, and replaced with another, this one of maple and phoenix feather.  Mr. Ollivander took away the maple wand even faster than the previous wand.

Professor Quirrell, perhaps realizing how long this process might take, sat down in the chair at the front of the shop.  The chair creaked ominously, but did not give out underneath him.

Harry couldn't be sure what Mr. Ollivander was looking for, but the pile of discarded wands grew higher and higher as Mr. Ollivander deemed them unsuitable one after the other.  Harry felt like he ought to apologize for taking up so much time, but Mr. Ollivander hardly looked inconvenienced, in fact, the man grew happier with every discarded wand.  Harry remained silent, the grin on Mr. Ollivander's face looked slightly worrying.

"Tricky customer, eh?  Not to worry."  Mr. Ollivander assured him, grabbing another box from a shelf, "Give this a try, holly and phoenix feather - unusual combination - eleven inches."  Mr. Ollivander handed over the wand.

Immediately, Harry knew this wand was different.  Warmth surged through his fingers and hand, and with a dramatic wave, bursts of red and gold sparks issues from the wand.

"Oh, bravo! Very good."  Mr. Ollivander said, taking the wand from Harry's hand.

Harry felt a bit colder now that he no longer held the wand.  Mr. Ollivander examined the wand, his smile facing into a more speculative look after a moment.

"Well, how very curious…"

"What's curious?"  Harry asked, shaking his hand a bit, trying to get that chilly pins and needles feeling out of it.  Mr. Ollivander started at Harry, his pales eyes darting across Harry's features, settling on the scar on Harry's forehead.Self-conscious, Harry flattened his bangs against his forehead.  He hated it when people stared.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Evans."  Mr. Ollivander said, "It may be pure coincidence of course, but it just so happens that the phoenix whose feather is in your wand gave only one other feather."  Harry wasn't sure what to make of Mr. Ollivander's ominous tone.

"Well, who has the other wand?"  Harry asked, figuring that Mr. Ollivander wouldn't have brought it up if it didn't mean anything.

"Yew and phoenix feather, thirteen-and-a-half inches."  Mr. Ollivander said.  From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Professor Quirrell start.   "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named purchased a wand from me, many years ago.  I think that we may expect great things from you, Mr. Evans.  After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."  Mr. Ollivander explained, handing Harry back the wand.  "That will be seven Galleons.”

Harry handed over the coins, wanting to leave Mr. Ollivander's shop as soon as he could.  Mr. Ollivander made him uncomfortable, and the man wouldn't stop staring.  Harry glanced around, Mr. Ollivander was not the only one staring either.

Professor Quirrell gazed at Harry with an oddly intent expression, as though Harry had spouted extra eyes, or perhaps a few extra nostrils.  

Harry tucked his wand into his waistband, and walked back out into the sunny afternoon with Professor Quirrell walking a little ways behind him.  Harry could still feel eyes drilling into him, and he didn't like it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quirrell is not at all above using Harry's shopping trip as a cover to go and case a bank or pick up illegal potions from sketchy Knockturn Alley potions shops.


	6. You-Know-Who

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diagon Alley part 3. Short chapter this time.

Walking out of Mr. Ollivander's shop, Harry and Professor Quirrell emerged into Diagon Alley, shoppers filled the alley, taking advantage of the sunny afternoon. Harry looked up at the Professor.

"Professor, who is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Harry asked. Professor Quirrell had clearly known who Mr. Ollivander was talking about, even if Harry hadn't understood.

Professor Quirrell stumbled as soon as he heard the question, his eyes filled with fear and realization.

"Oh, y-y-yes, you are M-M-Muggleborn." Professor Quirrell muttered, shaking himself slightly.

"That too - what's Muggleborn mean?" Harry had heard that word before, and it didn't sound particularly nice.

Professor Quirrell had a pinched expression, as though pained by these questioned. Harry's stomach growled, loud. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and he hadn't even gotten to finish his breakfast that morning, what with Professor Quirrell's arrival and all that.

"W-We should s-s-speak s-somewhere p-private." Professor Quirrell suggested, "W-Would you l-l-like an early s-supper M-Mr. Evans?" Harry nodded, food sounded wonderful about now.

Professor Quirrell found a small pub at the junction of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, the Potted Blackbird. The pub was small and dimly lit, with dark wood paneling on the walls and floorboards deeply scarred in places. Thick wooden beams ran across the ceiling, and fires burnt in grates on each wall, making the air so thick with smoke that Harry's nose and throat tickled. Professor Quirrell spoke to the tall woman behind the bar for a few minutes, and then led Harry to a table tucked into the far corner of the pub.

A few minutes later two plates of beef, potatoes and gravy were brought out, along with a large mug of some kind of hot drink for Harry, and a cup of tea for Professor Quirrell. Harry sniffed his drink, it looked a bit like beer, but had a strange, sweet smell to it.

"B-B-Butterbeer." Professor Quirrell said, watching Harry take a tiny sip. The drink was warm and very sweet, "V-Very p-p-popular w-with children." Harry wasn't sure he liked it that much, but it was certainly drinkable.

Professor Quirrell cast a spell which involved a complicated looping gesture, and the sounds of the pub receded into a low, droning buzz.

"F-For p-p-privacy." Professor Quirrell explained, his wand disappearing up his sleeve.

"Oh." Harry hadn't realized they'd be talking about anything quite so…sensitive.

"You w-w-wish t-to know about Y-You-Know-Who?" Professor Quirrel said.

"Is that the same as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Harry wanted to make sure he to the name right, Mr. Ollvander has definitely said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"Y-Yes." said Professor Quirrell, fidgeting uncomfortably, "Y-You-Know-Who w-was a w-w-wizard, v-very powerful," Professor Quirrell spoke slowly, weighting every word, "a D-Dark Lord." Professor Quirrell paused, shivering slightly. Harry hung on Professor Quirrell's every word. "M-Many people f-f-feared him, b-but m-many others agreed w-with h-him. H-He w-wanted to c-c-cleanse s-society." Professor Quirrell had begun to look somewhat ill simply talking about the subject, and quite obviously did not wish to continue.

"What's his name?" Harry asked, made more curious by the titles attributed to this powerful wizard. Professor Quirrell paled.

"W-We do n-n-not speak h-his n-name." Professor Quirrell said in a weak, pained tone. Harry thought that sounded rather stupid, how would anyone know who you were talking about if no one would say the name? Harry had already heard three separate titles for the man, and titles like You-Know-Who were hardly of any use at all. Professor Quirrell took a sip of tea, his hands shaking so badly that he spilled tea on the front of his robes.

"So, where is he now?" Harry asked. Professor Quirrell choked on his tea. "Professor?" Harry wondered if he should get help, Professor Quirrell hacked for several seconds before quieting down with a soft cough, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

"H-He d-d-disappeared t-ten years ago." Professor Quirrell said, watching Harry very closely, "N-N-Nobody knows." Harry shivered slightly, feeling as though someone had walked over his grave. Professor Quirrell took another shaky sip of tea. Harry took a few bites of beef and potatoes, they were quite tasty and chased away the chill.  A thought slowly formed in Harry's mind, something bout the way Professor Quirrell had phrased his answer to one of Harry's earlier questions nagging at him.

"He wanted to cleanse society?"  Harry asked, Professor Quirrell glanced up from his tea, "Did he kill people?"  Last year Ms. Barron had taught Harry's class about World War II in history class, and she'd said something about cleansing that really meant that people died, a lot of people.

"S-Sometimes."  Professor Quirrell continued to look very uncomfortable with this topic, but Harry wanted to know more.  "H-He s-s-saw M-Muggle b-b-blood threatening our s-s-society."  Professor Quirrell said.

"Muggle blood, like Muggleborn?"  Harry still wasn't quite sure what Muggleborn meant, but it had to be related.  "What's that mean?”

"M-Muggleborn w-witches and w-w-wizards are b-b-born to M-Muggle p-parents - people w-without m-m-magic."  said Professor Quirrell.

"People without magic, like my aunt and uncle?  They're Muggles?"  Harry asked.

"Y-Yes, and y-your p-p-parents t-too."  said Professor Quirrell.  Harry took a few more bites of his food, thinking that over.

His mum couldn't have been a witch, surely Aunt Petunia would have known about magic if her sister were a witch.  His dad though, well, Harry couldn't say much of anything for sure about his dad.

He'd asked Aunt Petunia about his dad a few times, but Aunt Petunia claimed she didn't know, and last time he'd asked her, she'd said in a very nasty tone that perhaps Harry's mum didn't know who his dad was either.  Aunt Petunia laughed at that, but Harry didn't understand what was so funny.

"Professor, if my dad were a wizard, he wouldn't have left me with my relative, would he?"  Harry asked, imagining that if his dad could use magic like Professor Quirrell, surely he wouldn't have left Harry with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.  If his dad had magic, wouldn't he have come and taken Harry away from the Dursleys?  Harry used to imagine all the time that someone would come take him away from the Dursleys, some long lost relative.

Professor Quirrell took a long drink of tea, his eyes darting away from Harry's gaze.

"W-W-Well one c-c-can't s-say f-f-for s-sure,"  Professor Quirrell answered, "b-but n-no, it is n-n-not l-likely.”

Harry slumped in his seat, he'd expected that answer, but it still hurt.  With all the things he'd seen magic do, Harry knew it must be very easy for a wizard to find the Dursleys and take him away, just like Professor Quirrell had done earlier that very day.  Harry knew he shouldn't have gotten his hoped up.  It had been foolish to even ask, but he’d thought that maybe, well, if someone left him a vault full of money, why shouldn’t it have been his dad?Harry shook his head slightly, it had been foolish.Maybe some distant relative left the vault, or maybe the goblins had just made a mistake.

Harry finished the rest of his supper quietly, and thanked Professor Quirrell profusely when the Professor paid for both of their meals.

As they left the Potted Blackbird, Harry saw some kind of commotion down the road, in front of the bank.  People in crimson robes were shouting at a crowd of goblins in red and gold by the bank doors, the goblins were shouting right back, waving spears and axes threateningly.

Professor Quirrell took one look at the crowd that had gathered in front of the bank to watch the commotion, and pulled Harry in the opposite direction, a look of fear on his face.  It didn't surprise Harry that the Professor was afraid of crowds, the Professor seemed like a fearful sort of man.

Professor Quirrell returned Harry to Privet Drive in the same way as they'd left earlier that day, apparation.  Harry stood next to the Professor, Professor Quirrell holding onto Harry's arm in a tight grip.  One moment they stood in front of a shop selling flying broomsticks, and the next they stood behind the hedges at 4 Privet Drive, shielded from sight had anyone been walking down the road at that moment.

Harry didn't feel quite as sick this time around, but standing in front of the Dursleys' house once again, after a whole day spent seeing wonderful, impossible things made him feel like his stomach had turned to lead.

Professor Quirrell, perhaps seeing Harry's downcast expression, gave him a very awkward pat on the shoulder that did nothing at all to cheer Harry up.  

"H-Here is your t-t-train t-ticket Mr. Evans."  Professor Quirrell pulled an envelope from his pocket.  "The t-t-train f-for Hogwarts l-l-leaves f-from platform n-nine-and-three-quarters at K-King's Cross on S-September f-f-first."  Harry took the envelope, dreading that he had a little more than a month left before school started, a month of living with the Dursleys.

"M-Mr. Evans, if y-you have m-m-more questions, y-you c-c-can c-come to m-my office when the t-t-term b-begins."  Professor Quirrell said.

"Thank you for everything today Professor, it was amazing."  Harry said, completely honest.  Professor Quirrell's right eye twitched.

"I w-w-will s-see you at the b-b-beginning of the t-term Mr. Evans."  Professor Quirrell said, and then he turned away, vanishing with a loud crack. Harry was left alone, standing in the Dursleys' front yard.

Walking very slowly, and feeling like his limbs were made of iron, Harry walked to the front door and knocked.  Maybe the Dursleys will have forgotten what Professor Quirrell did to them earlier that day, Harry hoped very much that they'd forgotten.


	7. A Serpentine Problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue is quoted from the text.  
> Also, warning for discussion of bigotry, executions, and violence against children. Again, nothing very descriptive, but it is there.

The Dursleys, as it turned out, had not forgotten the terror that Professor Quirrell put them through just that morning. Quite the opposite in fact, left to percolate in their own fear and anger for the day, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had come up with all sorts of horrifying ideas about magic.

By the time Harry arrived back home after shopping with Professor Quirrell all day, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had decided to make some changes around the house. Uncle Vernon led Harry upstairs, to Dudley's second bedroom, which had been completely emptied save for the furniture.

"This is your room. You are not to leave this room unless I or Petunia tell you to do so." Uncle Vernon explained, making sure to keep Harry well out of arm's reach, as though Harry might leap at him at any moment. "Do you understand?”

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry supposed it was better than his cupboard. Harry reached into his pocket to pull out the train ticket Professor Quirrell had given him, he thought he ought to tell Uncle Vernon the time and date of the train. Uncle Vernon jerked back at Harry's sudden movement.

"Get inside, right now."  Uncle Vernon barked.  Harry stepped inside his new bedroom, and Uncle Vernon shut the door behind him with a loud snap.

"I need to be at King's Cross on September first for school!"  Harry shouted through the door, hoping Uncle Vernon heard him.

Harry looked around his new bedroom.  It was smaller than Dudley's bedroom, the smallest in the house in fact, but still far larger than his cupboard.Harry's few belongings were already sitting in a pile on the bed, Dudley's hand-me-down clothes (now dyed grey curtesy of Aunt Petunia), a few notebooks and pencils from school, and the coat hanger that Uncle Vernon had given him for his birthday several years ago.  The biscuit tin he'd kept his most precious belongings in was gone.

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to remain calm as his frustration and anger grew.  He had little doubt that the biscuit tin had been thrown away once his Aunt and Uncle saw its contents.  Harry had secreted it away for two years knowing that his relatives wouldn't be happy that he'd kept a photograph of himself, or stolen those pages from a library book and one of Aunt Petunia's magazines.  Even the drawing he'd made of his parents and himself was gone, it hadn't been a good drawing, just stick figures, but Harry wanted to keep it, it made him feel nice.

Harry slowly uncurled his fists, looking at the little half-moons his nails had left in his palms.  Outside, the sun began to set.

Harry emptied his pockets, carefully setting the shrunken objects and packages on the floor.  He had a couple Sickles and some Knuts left over from the twenty Galleons he'd take out of his vault.

He wanted to kick something, or tear something up in frustration.  He has so many questions and no good answers, Harry didn't even know where to begin looking for what he wanted to know.  Who'd left him the money at the bank was just one of those questions.

Taking several deep breaths, Harry drew his wand and tapped each of the shrunken items in turn, just as Severus had told him to.Everything returned to its previous size without harm, and Harry grinned, he'd just done real magic.

August passed unbearably slowly.  Harry thought that he should be happy, he had his very own bedroom, his relatives weren't making him do chores, Uncle Vernon wasn't shouting at him as much, Aunt Petunia didn't wake him up first thing in the morning, he didn't even have to worry about Dudley and his little gang beating him up.

The only problem with Harry's situation was that he remained in his bedroom almost all day every day, only leaving his room to use the bathroom, or when his Aunt or Uncle came knocking to tell him he could come downstairs and get some food.

Even when he was allowed to leave his bedroom, his relatives largely did not speak to him, or even look at him for that matter.  If Harry moved suddenly, they flinched or scrambled out of his way.Harry always imagined he'd enjoy the day when his relatives learned how it felt to be constantly walking on eggshells, and worrying about punishment coming at any moment, but instead Harry found the entire situation depressing.

He didn't much enjoy it when people were afraid of him.  He'd never experienced it before, but unlike Dudley, who seemed to quite enjoy it when Harry or other children were afraid of him, Harry just felt vaguely ill whenever his relatives acted as though he would somehow hurt them if they got too close to him.Harry would rather stay in his bedroom all day than be wandering around the house if his relatives were going to cringe whenever he walked into the room.  The Dursleys were altogether happier if they could avoid thinking about Harry at all, and to do that, Harry had to remain unseen and unheard.

With little else to do, Harry started reading his school books.  He'd never been very studious, his grades in primary school had been all right, but not good.  Harry sat cross legged on his bed and began to read, but soon found himself staring out the window, watching the neighbors mow their laws, or Dudley and his friends biking down the road chasing someone's poor, terrified cat.

As it turned out, textbooks were always a bit dull, whether they were textbooks on mathematics and literature or potions and transfiguration.  The subjects were very interesting of course, they were about magic after all, but Harry couldn't make sense of certain terms and phrases.  He had no one to ask for clarification about any of it.

The books that Severus had recommended were even worse, they were clearly aimed at adults who already knew a thing or two about potions, not students like Harry who'd only just heard of potions in the last month.

With several weeks until September first remaining, Harry's bedroom looked like a whirlwind had passed through.  Bits of paper and parchment littered the room, Harry had tried to practice writing with a quill as Professor Quirrell suggested.  Books were left on every surface, and his dirty laundry had been strewn about the room.  The clutter made Harry increasingly upset, but every time he cleaned things up, they'd be messy all over again by the next day.

Harry had never been given so much space before, and quickly found that keeping a cupboard organized was far simpler than keeping an entire room organized, especially now that he owned so much more stuff.  His school supplies more than doubled the number of things he owned, and Harry felt a little overwhelmed by the entire situation.He pushed all of the books to one corner of the room, where they sat in a large pile on the floor, and all of his dirty clothes to another corner, deciding that it made the mess a little more manageable.

After having attempted to read each of his textbooks, not that he'd gotten very far in any of them, Harry turned to the only book he hadn't yet opened.   _Evolution of Darkness: A History of Regulated Magics and their Practitioners_ by Apis Black, the book Professor Quirrell made him purchase instead of that interesting looking book on curses and counter-curses that Harry wanted.

Harry opened  _Evolution of Darkness_ to the first page, and groaned, faced with an impenetrable wall of very tiny text with not a paragraph break or indentation in sight.

Willing himself to focus on the words on the page in front of him, Harry began reading, and was met by word after word that he hadn't the faintest clue as to the meaning of.

Azkaban?  Auror?  Wizengamot?  ICW?  Wergild?

Harry shook his head, wishing he'd though to buy some kind of magical dictionary while shopping with Professor Quirrell.  That seemed like the kind of book that really ought to be on the supply list for first years.

Harry tried flipping to a random page, hoping that might reveal something more interesting, and comprehensible, than the introduction.  Only after flipping to ten or twenty different pages did Harry begin to realize what  _Evolution of Darkness_ was all about.

Professor Quirrell had made him buy a book on legal history, Harry couldn't think of a subject that sounded more boring.  Laws were boring, history was boring, Harry decided not to trust a book recommendation from a teacher ever again, he should have expected something like this.

Each chapter discussed different types of magic that had been made illegal or been regulated in Britain.  The book didn't even explain how to do any magic, there were no instructions on how to cast spells of any sort.  It just discussed laws, votes, trials and such.Harry saw plenty of references to curses of various sorts, but hadn't a clue what they meant.  He'd wanted a book about how to curse people, not this.  Harry couldn't get his head around any of it.

What was the difference between Unforgivable Curses and Felonious Curses?  The author didn't explain that at all.  What of necromancy versus exorcisms?  What was so bad about souls that made almost everything having to do with them illegal?  Harry skimmed a few pages, and gave up on that chapter entirely.

Harry continued flipping through the book, not quite understanding anything it had to offer except that the Ministry of Magic apparently made an awful lot of laws.

He reached a section titled  _Parselmouths and Wizengamot Law_ and read a few paragraphs, trying to figure out what this chapter was all about.

 

_In the year eighteen hundred and seventy-three, eighteen accused Parselmouths were tried on charges of magics most antithetical to the natural order.  As the tongue of men must not be spoken by the mouths of beasts, so too must the tongue of beasts never be spoken by the mouths of men.  Of the eighteen accused, the guilt of twelve was undeniably proven.The guilty were given over to the dementors and buried at Azkaban so that their spirits could not wander.  The eldest of the twelve, Drust Gaunt, was kissed at the age of one hundred and twenty-four years.  The youngest of the twelve, Phrike Gaunt, was kissed at the age of nine years.  In the year eighteen hundred and seventy-seven, by vote of the Wizengamot, Parseltongue was made lawful, and unnatural magics abounded in this land._

 

Disgust churned in Harry's gut.  He wasn't wholly sure what dementors were, but it certainly sounded like the author meant that the twelve had been executed.  He couldn't think of anything a nine year old could do that warranted execution, even Dudley hadn't been that bad.  Harry didn't understand what "kiss" meant, but whatever it was, it sounded like a death sentence.

Harry collected himself and continued reading, morbid curiosity winning out over disgust.  He wanted to puzzle out just what Parseltongue meant, and what sort of crime it might be that a nine year old could do it.

 

_Not until the year nineteen hundred and sixty-nine did the folly of the Wizengamot's mercy become known.  Had that disastrous vote taken in eighteen hundred and seventy-seven, long after common folk  believed Parselmouths extinct from this world, not occurred, the world might have been spared the terror of the second Dark Lord of this ill-begotten century._

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rose to prominence with the murder of fourteen witches and wizards of muggle blood, and the public claim that he alone represented the last of the line of Salazar Slytherin.  By the year nineteen hundred and seventy-three, as proven by destruction of the Ashborn family, even those untainted by muggle blood were threatened by the madness of a single Parselmouth.  The consequences of the Wizengamot allowing such evils to fester, and such beastly blood to be passed on to new generations have been borne out._

_Should one question the reality that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-named is no wizard, but a Parselmouth, one must only look so far as the symbol which he is represented by, and the monstrous creature which is reported to accompany him: the serpent coiled about a human skull, and the serpent which has been seen coiled about his shoulders.  There is more than enough evidence to show that the blood of the Parselmouth Salazar Slytherin has bled true in his descendants, who speak the language of serpents as their native tongue, though they walk among us in a parody of human form._

 

Harry closed the book with an abrupt snap, feeling no desire to continue reading.

The author's words gave him a sick feeling, "tainted by muggle blood," "not a wizard, but a Parselmouth," "a parody of human form," Harry shivered.  He had the beginnings of an answer as to what exactly a Parselmouth was.  In Apis Black's words, someone who spoke to snakes and someone whom he, the author, believed wasn't really human.

Harry had read a bit about Salazar Slytherin in  _A History of Magic_ , Slytherin had been one of the founders of Hogwarts, a powerful wizard known for his skill in Dark magic and transfiguration.  While  _A History of Magic_ had mentioned that the symbol of the House Slytherin was a snake, there'd be no mention of Slytherin literally speaking to snakes.

Harry thought back to the boa constrictor at the zoo.  He thought he'd spoken to a snake, but that had only been once, and Harry couldn't be sure the snake had really talked to him.  He could go back and forth as to whether anything magical had really happened at the zoo all day long without coming to any real answer.  No, Harry decided, he needed to find a snake to talk to and sort this out once and for all.

 


	8. The Second Storey Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence against animals, though it's not described in any great detail.

Harry wished he'd thought to ask Professor Quirrell about the whole 'talking to snakes' thing back when they were shopping, but Harry hadn't realized at the time that there might be anything strange about a wizard talking to snakes. Harry needed to test his skill somehow, confirm that he hadn't just imagined the incident at the zoo. He need a snake.

Acquiring a snake though, Harry couldn't well find a snake in his bedroom. He needed a plan.

Harry waited until he heard Dudley stomping up the stairs, probably to play a video game. Harry opened his bedroom door just a tiny bit.

"Dudley." he whispered. Dudley paused, halfway through his bedroom door.

"Dad says you're not supposed to leave your room." said Dudley. Aunt Petunia was out in the yard tending the garden, and Uncle Vernon still at work, Harry didn't think there was much risk of being caught at the moment.

"I need a snake." Harry said, "I'll pay you." he held up a couple Sickles so that Dudley could see them. To someone like Dudley, who didn't know their worth, Harry thought that the large silver coins must look awfully valuable.

"A snake?" Dudley repeated, "A rubber snake, right?”

"Er - no, a real one." Harry said, then realized that wouldn't do much to make him look any saner in Dudley’s eyes, “I’ve got to test something.” Dudley continued to stare. “I just want to talk to it.”

“You’re such a freak.” Dudley said, but his eyes remained on the Sickles in Harry’s hand. “I can just punch you until you hand over your money.” Dudley added, showing a far greater depth of thought than Harry expected possible. Harry hesitated, wondering if he should just go back into his room and lock the door.

“If you do that I’ll tell Professor Quirrell, and he’ll come back and talk to your mum and dad again.” Harry said, lying through his teeth.

“Who?” Dudley asked.

“The man in the turban.” Harry hissed, and Dudley paled dramatically, recalling his time stuck to his seat and unable to make a sound.

“Okay, just don’t tell your teacher.” Dudley agreed, holding out a hand for the coins. “Hand them over.”

“Only half now. Once you bring me the snake I’ll give you the other half.” Harry agreed, dropping two coins into Dudley’s palm. Dudley glared, and looked ready to argue, but abruptly stopped, a wary look replacing his anger. “Don’t get bit.” Harry advised.

“Whatever freak.” Dudley muttered, walking into his bedroom and slamming the door. Harry closed his own door and sat down on his bed, not quite able to believe that had worked.

Later that afternoon, Harry saw Dudley and his friends out the window. They weren’t chasing any cats today, nor did they appear to be stealing lawn decorations or potted plants from people’s front yards. Instead, Dudley and his friends were carefully parting shrubs or crawling underneath hedges, searching for a lost football? 

Harry watched a little while longer, and saw Dudley take something out of his pocket and show it to his friends, something that glinted silver. Snakes, they were looking for snakes. Harry sat back and watched them search until the boys gave up for the evening and scattered to their respective homes for dinner.

Four days later, Dudley knocked at Harry’s bedroom door. Aunt Petunia had gone to Mrs. Barnet’s house down the road to gossip over tea, and Uncle Vernon would be at work several hours longer. Harry opened the door to find Dudley, holding an orange flower pot at arms length.

“Got a snake.” Dudley said, pushing Harry aside and walking into Harry’s bedroom. “Piers found it by the Hamptons’ bird bath.” Dudley put the flower pot on Harry’s desk, Harry peeked inside and saw a very small grass snake, less than a foot long, slithering round and round in the bottom of the pot with some wet leaves. “Where’s those coins?” Dudley asked impatiently. 

Harry dug out the remaining two Sickles and handed them over. Dudley pocketed the Sickles, but made no move to leave Harry’s bedroom. Harry hadn’t a clue what Dudley planned to do with the Sickles, it wasn’t like he could spend them anywhere.

“Is there something else?” Harry asked.

“You said you’d talk to it.” Dudley said, “I want to watch.” Harry had hoped to do this alone and avoid making a complete fool of himself in front of anyone else. Dudley sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed, the bed frame creaking slightly underneath him. “Well?”

Harry sighed, and picked up the flower pot. “Just don’t laugh at me, okay?” Harry asked. He looked down into the pot at the snake and took a deep breath, feeling much more nervous that he’d expected, though Dudley watching him with rapt attention certainly didn’t help.

“Hello?” Harry said. Dudley snorted. “I said no laughing.” Harry snapped. Harry looked at the snake again, trying to remember what he’d done at the zoo. 

“Hello.” Harry said again, and this time Dudley didn’t make a sound. The grass snake stopped trying to escape the pot, instead swinging its head back and forth. “Can you understand me?” Harry asked. The snake craned its neck, its beady black eyes meeting Harry’s.

“You speak.” The snake said, sounding surprised by the very idea, “Release me.”

“Wicked.” Dudley whispered. Harry tried to think of something else to say, he hadn’t actually thought through what he’d want to say to a snake.

“Do you have a name?” Harry asked. He couldn’t even tell he was speaking a different language, it felt perfectly normal to him.

“A what?” the snake asked, then began to slither around the bottom of the pot again, “Release me. Release me.” the snake said over and over again. 

“Dudley, I think we should put it back outside.” Harry suggested, glancing up at his cousin. Dudley stared, wide-eyed.

“Speak English.” Dudley said, and for a fleeting moment Harry wondered if he’d somehow gotten stuck, he didn’t know how to switch back to English, he hardly even knew how he’d switched to the snake language.

“Er - is this right?” Harry asked, panic beginning to seep into his brain. What if he got stuck like this? How would he attend Hogwarts if all he could do was speak to snakes?

“Oh good, you remembered how to talk like a normal person.” Dudley commented, and Harry glared.

“I think we should let the snake go.” Harry suggested.

“Hm.” Dudley stood up and walked over to the window, gazing out at the lawns and gardens of Privet Drive.

“You think you could put it back where Piers found it?” Harry asked. Dudley opened the window, peering outside. “See somewhere better?” Harry set the pot down on his desk and tried to look over Dudley’s shoulder. 

This didn’t work particularly well, as Dudley stood quite a bit taller than Harry, and much wider too. Before Harry could so much as blink, Dudley reached down and grabbed the pot, and tipped it out the window, shaking it until the snake had tumbled out. 

“Dudley!” Harry shouted, Dudley closed the window and held the flower pot. “Why would you do that?” Dudley shrugged, and left the flower pot on Harry’s desk as he walked out of the room. Harry continued to stammer, trying to think of some kind of objection to what had just occurred. 

“Tell mum I’m going to Gordon’s house.” Dudley said by way of goodbye, leaving Harry to stare uncomprehendingly at the empty doorway. 

Harry closed his bedroom door and sat down on his bed. He couldn’t get thought of that grass snake falling two floors down out of his mind. 

At least he’d confirmed that he could speak to snakes. From what he’d read, that made him a Parselmouth. Apis Black, the author of Evolution of Darkness would claim that made Harry inhuman, unnatural, and therefore evil.

Harry didn’t feel any more or less human than any other day, no matter how much the Dursleys liked to treat him like some kind of slimy creature, a slug maybe. Magic seemed just as unnatural as speaking to snakes, and Harry didn’t feel particularly evil. Not when compared to an author who believed that the execution of a nine year old had been a good thing to do.

Harry lay down, pressing his face against his pillow. No, he really didn’t feel evil, just confused and kind of sad. That book said that Parseltongue was passed down through blood, so people had to inherit it. The two people named in the 1873 executions were both Gaunts, Harry wondered if they were related, and worse yet, if the other ten people executed for Parseltongue at the same time had been related as well. The idea horrified him, an entire family executed for speaking to snakes. At least someone had the good sense to get that law repealed a few years later.

Another line of thought bubbled up in Harry’s mind. Parseltongue had inherited. Harry knew his mum wasn’t magical, and Aunt Petunia had certainly never mentioned that she could speak to snakes. Aunt Petunia disapproved of learning foreign languages, Harry had no doubt she’d disapprove just as strongly of learning languages of other species. 

Dudley obviously couldn’t speak to snakes, Harry didn’t think Dudley would be so keen to toss a living creature out the second story window if it could talk, at least he hoped not. So if he didn’t get it from his mum, that left his dad. The book didn’t say whether non-magical people, muggles, could be Parselmouths. Surely someone would have noticed if some normal people could speak to snakes, and it seemed too, well, magical to be something that normal people could do. If his dad had been a wizard, then maybe his dad left him money with the goblins, that would make sense, but Harry didn’t know how to go about confirming it.

Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. As soon at school started, he’d go and ask Professor Quirrell about this. Surely Professor Quirrell would know the answers, he’d been the one to make Harry but that awful book after all.

Harry wished Professor Quirrell would have just let him buy that book of curses, then at least Harry could have done something to make Dudley regret what he’d done to that snake. Maybe he could give Dudley a pig’s tail or a pig’s snout, surely magic could do that.


	9. Much Ado About Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry can't keep his mouth shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence, and bigotry (Draco is in this chapter).

At half past ten on September first, Uncle Vernon left Harry at the curb outside of King’s Cross, speeding away before Harry could even say thank you.The car ride to King’s Cross had been totally silent, with Uncle Vernon constantly watching Harry in the rearview mirror to make sure Harry didn’t get up to anything nefarious.

Harry loaded his trunk onto a cart and set off for platform nine and three-quarters, only to find that said platform didn’t exist.  There was platform nine, platform ten, and nothing in between.  Harry even asked a guard, who had never heard of Hogwarts, and when Harry mentioned platform nine and three-quarters the guard seemed to think Harry was trying to pull one over on him, and walked away chuckling.

Disheartened, Harry rolled his trunk over to a bench near platform nine and sat down, wondering if anyone would come looking for him if he didn’t make it onto the train in time.According to the clock on the arrivals board, Harry had less than fifteen minutes until the train left.While Harry considered his plight, a woman’s voice caught his ear.

“—packed with muggles, of course—“Harry looked up and saw a red haired woman, with kindly looking round face, leading a line of red haired children like a mother goose leading her goslings.Harry grabbed his cart and charged in their direction, almost running straight into the girl at the end of the line of red-heads when they suddenly stopped, and the momentum of Harry’s heavy trunk on its cart pulled him forward.

“Look out!”Harry yelled.The red-haired girl leaped out of the way as though she’d trained for this precise sort of situation, and the four boys scrambled out of the way in a flurry of limbs.It was only the woman at the front of the line who reached out and grabbed Harry’s cart, pulling it to a stop, and smiling down at Harry, who went red with embarrassment.

“Hello, dear, are you lost?”Her eyes flickered from Harry to his trunk and back. 

“Um, yes?”Harry wasn’t entirely sure what to say, what with the woman’s five children staring at him in various states of disbelief.“I heard you mention muggles?" 

“First time at Hogwarts?”She asked with a knowing smile.“Ron’s new, too.”she pulled Harry’s cart next to the last, and youngest of the red-haired boys. 

“You almost ran me over with that thing.”Ron accused, his face going red beneath all of his freckles.“Could’ve killed me.”The woman cleared her throat,

“Ten minutes left everyone, get moving.”she instructed, seemingly including Harry in right alongside her gaggle of children.Harry walked alongside Ron, pushing his cart until they reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

“I already looked over here, there’s not any-“Harry began, but the woman leading the line, Ron’s mum, stepped aside and allowed the oldest of the boys to walk past her.He kept on walking, and right when Harry expected him to walk face first into the brick wall, he vanished.No one other than Harry and the red haired family seemed to notice a thing. 

“Fred, George, you boys go next.”Their mum instructed, and the two identical boys charged through the barrier at full speed.“Ron, you and-“Ron’s mum looked at Harry,

“Harry.”Harry volunteered. 

“Right, you and Harry go on ahead.”Harry and Ron shared a glance, and Harry wondered if Ron knew that he had a bit of dirt on the side of his nose.Nodding once, they both pushed their carts on ahead, rushing through the barrier at the same time.

Harry half-expected to end up running nose-first into the wall, even after watching the three boys go ahead of him.Instead of crashing, he just kept on running, and found himself elsewhere, like when Professor Quirrell apparated him, but without feeling sick afterwards. 

Harry looked at the overhead sign, which said Hogwarts Express.A brilliant red steam engine, like something out of a history book, sat next to the platform.The platform itself was packed with people, most of whom wore robes in various colors and styles.Harry felt a bit underdressed in his jeans and tee shirt, both of which were far too large for him.At least he fit in alongside Ron’s family, all of them were likewise dressed in clothes a bit out of date and a bit threadbare.Harry felt right at home.

Harry started to wander off to find a seat on the train, but a hand grabbed him by the shoulder.“Now, dear, where are your parents?”It was Ron’s mum again.

“I haven’t got any.”Harry answered, then realized that was hardly polite, “Ma’am.” he added.Ron’s mum frowned, a deeply concerned look blooming across her face.

“You’ve done it now, mate.”Ron muttered, standing just a few paces to Harry’s side.Ron’s mum sniffled.Harry saw the two identical boys sneaking away from their mum while her back was turned.

“I’m sorry your parents couldn’t be here to see this.”Harry found himself wrapped in a bone crushing hug, and entirely unexpected hug at that.He stiffened.People didn’t hug him.Harry didn’t know what to do.He’d seen other children get hugs before, but now that he was in the spotlight he hadn’t the slightest idea how to react.Ron’s mum let him go, seemingly not offended by Harry’s lack of response. 

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time at Hogwarts.”She said, “And Ron, keep an eye on Harry here.”she warned.Ron groaned, but was soon scooped up in a hug also.Harry used the distraction to sneak away while Ron’s mum tearfully said goodbye to her children.

“Want a hand?”One of the red haired twins asked as Harry approached an empty compartment near the end of the train.

“Yes, please.”

“Sorry about my mum, she can be a bit…”the red haired boy struggled for a worn, “You know?”

“It’s not a problem, really.”Harry assured him.The boy shrugged.

“Fred!C’mere and help!”he shouted into the train car.The other twin came running, and with their help the three of them managed to get Harry’s trunk into the empty compartment.

“Thanks,”Harry swiped his sweaty hair out of his face.

“Oh, wicked scar.”One of the twins said, pointing at the scar on Harry’s forehead.Harry quickly flattened his hair down across his forehead, he hated it when people made a big deal about his scar.

“What’d you do, get dropped on your head as a baby?”the other twin asked with a grin.

“Something like that.”Harry muttered, turning red. 

“Fred?George?Are you in there?”the twins’ mum’s voice drifted into the train car.

“Coming, Mum.”The two of them ran for the end of the car, leaving Harry alone in his compartment.Harry sat down, and surreptitiously watched the red haired family through the window as their mum wished the children off with tearful goodbyes until only the girl remained, looking quite sad as well.

Harry smiled upon seeing Ron’s mum seize him by the scruff of his neck and begin trying to wipe the end of his nose until Ron wriggled free, looking rather like a cat that’d been doused in water.

The oldest boy, already wearing black robes with some kind of badge on his chest, came walking over to say goodbye.

“Oh, are you a _prefect_ , Percy?”one the twins asked, poking fun at his older brother, “We had no idea.”.Harry wondered if Percy would punch the twins, that’s what Dudley would do if Harry started going on like that.Percy’s mum kissed him on the cheek and sent him on his way.

There was mention of blowing up a toilet, and the twins promised to send a toilet seat to their younger sister.Harry slid down into his seat somewhat, wondering just what sort of school he’d signed up for.

“Look after Ron.”The twins were delighted at that suggestion from their mother,

“Don’t worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us.”one of the twins said, and decided that if anyone were doing the punching, it was certainly the twins, not Percy.Harry hoped that Ron was fast, the boy was tall and gangly, but then again, so were the twins, so Harry doubted Ron would have any real advantage there.

“Keep an eye on Harry too boys.”Their mum instructed, and Harry felt his face going red.He’d only met her ten minutes ago, how could she just go around telling her children to go keeping a look out for him like that?He wasn’t her responsibility.Harry hadn’t been this embarrassed since that time Dudley poured a can of beans into his backpack and he hadn’t realized it until he got to school. 

The train whistled.

“Hurry up!”their mother sent her boys onto the train, waving goodbye.Their sister began to tear up, despite the twins’ promises of sending her a toilet seat from Hogwarts.

The train began to move, and Harry watched the sea of smiling and crying faces on the platform fly by at increasing speed.When the train was finally free of the station, Harry felt a great surge of excitement.He was finally on his way to Hogwarts, he could hardly believe he’d made it.He wouldn’t have to see the Dursleys for almost a whole year.Harry thought this might be the best day of his life, except for maybe the trip to Diagon Alley with Professor Quirrell, but that had been scary too, not just fantastic. 

The compartment door opened, and Ron, the youngest of the red haired boys, stepped inside.

“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, “Everywhere else is full.”Harry shook his head, and Ron sat down, looking out the window.Harry likewise looked out the window.Both of them snuck glanced at one another, and when their eyes met, tried to pretend neither of them had been looking. 

The compartment door opened again, this time it was the twins, Fred and George as they introduced themselves, checking in on Ron and Harry before taking off again, mentioning something about a tarantula.

“Sorry about my Mum,”Ron began, once the twins had left.

“The twins already apologized, it’s really nothing.”Harry interrupted, “Really.”he didn’t want to admit that he’d kind of liked it, having someone paying attention to him, and that hug.Harry hoped he got another hug at some point, it had been strange, but he thought it was quite nice too. 

“Are all your family wizards?”Harry asked, all of Ron’s siblings seemed to be going to Hogwarts, and Harry saw his mum had a wand too. 

“Er - yes, I think so.”Ron thought for a moment, “I think Mum’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant.” he added. 

“Huh.”An entire family of witches and wizards, Harry could hardly even imagine what that must be like.

“What about you?”Ron asked.

“Muggleborn?”That’s what Professor Quirrell had called him, so Harry supposed that was probably right. 

“So your parents weren’t… they didn’t die in the war?”Ron asked, stumbling a bit over the question.“My Mum assumed…”

“Sorry, what war?”Harry asked, feeling like he’d become quite lost in this conversation.Ron fidgeted, looking uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken as well. 

“You know, with _him_ , You-Know-Who?”Ron said. 

“Oh, him.”Harry got it.“No, I don’t think that’s what happened to them.”All Aunt Petunia told him was that his mum blew herself up doing criminal things, Harry didn’t know the details.Ron glanced out the window again.

“What are Muggles like?”Ron asked eventually, in a change of topic that Harry much appreciated.

“Horrible.”Harry said, then regretted it looking at Ron’s stunned expression, “Well, not all of them.My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though.Wish I’d had three wizard brothers.”Harry thought that brothers would be great, especially if they were like Ron’s brothers, not like three Dudleys.

“Five,” Ron corrected in a gloomy tone.

“Wow.”Harry wondered what meals looked like in Ron’s house.Dudley and Uncle Vernon already ate so much food, but five Dudleys?Harry couldn’t imagine it. 

“Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they all did it first.”Ron admitted, “You never get anything new, either, with five brothers.”Harry nodded, he didn’t have any brothers but he understood that.

“Until I got my school uniform, I didn’t have any clothes that didn’t belong to my cousin first.”Harry said.Ron said his brother Percy had gotten a brand new owl this past summer, though Ron sounded a little put out that he didn’t have an owl of his own.

“I don’t have any pets.”Harry said, “My cousin likes to throw all of his pets out the windows.”Ron had absolutely nothing to say to that, a look of horror and disbelief on his face.Harry sniffed, thinking of that poor tortoise, and those parrots, and that little grass snake (admittedly, the snake hadn’t actually been a pet, but Harry felt that his point still stood).

Harry and Ron continued to chat about their families, Harry answering Ron’s questions about muggles, and Ron answering Harry’s questions about wizards.Outside, London’s suburbs gave way to green fields and scattered farmhouses.Harry and Ron sat with their faces pressed up against the windows, watching the cows and sheep race past until a woman with a cart full of candies knocked on their compartment door.

Ron muttered something about sandwiches, but Harry fished the few Knuts he had left after shopping and paying off Dudley.Harry bought five chocolate frogs, because they looked the most magical, squirming in their packages.He didn’t have a single Knut left.

While Harry stared at his new purchases, wondering how he was supposed to eat them if they didn’t stop hopping about, Ron unwrapped his sandwiches and sighed.

“She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.” 

“Trade you.”Harry said, holding up a couple of chocolate frogs.“Go on—“Harry goaded, “I like corned beef.”

Ron relented, and handed over two of his four sandwiches in exchange for two of Harry’s chocolate frogs.Harry watched carefully at Ron unwrapped a frog, grabbed it before it could escape, and quickly stuffed it into his mouth in one, large bite.  

Harry tried to mimic Ron, but his frog nearly escaped, leaving Harry’s face smeared with chocolate.

“Did you get Agrippa?”Ron asked once Harry had finished chewed.

“What?”

“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know.Chocolate frogs come with cards, you know, to collect.They’re all famous witches and wizards.I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”Ron explained.Harry pulled the card from the wrapper the chocolate frog had come in.A man with half-moon glasses looked out from the card, he had a crooked nose and a long white beard.Harry stared at the card for a moment.

“Is it Merlin?”Harry asked, showing the card to Ron.

“What?”Ron took the card and wiped some melted chocolate away, his momentary excitement fading “Oh, it’s just Dumbledore.I’ve got ten of these.”Ron handed the card back.Harry watched the picture in astonishment, Dumbledore moved, he smiled up at Harry, and then walked right out of the frame. 

“He’s gone!” 

“He’ll be back.”Ron said with a shrug, tearing open his second chocolate frog.Between the two of them, they finish all five chocolate frogs off within minutes, and Ron let Harry keep all of the cards because he already had at least a few copies of all of them.

“You can start your own collection.”Ron suggested.Harry tucked the cards into his pocket, but doubted he’d be taking up card collecting anytime soon.That seemed like an awful lot of chocolate to eat.

“In muggle photos people stay put.”Harry pointed out. 

“What, they don’t move at all?”Ron shook his head in bafflement, “Why would they do that?”Harry wondered how long this train ride would be, and whether or not he had time to explain television to Ron.Harry decided against it, and simply shrugged.

Some time later, a boy knocked at their compartment door asking about a toad.Neither Ron nor Harry had seen any sign of a toad, and the boy left, looking close to tears.Not ten minutes later a bushy haired girl barged in asking the same thing.When Harry and Ron told her the same as they’d told the previous boy, she crossed her arm, looking very annoyed.

“Well, you could at least help us look.”She suggested.  

“I’m busy.”Ron lied, at the same time Harry stood up, 

“I guess.”Harry said.The girl glared at Ron until he relented.

“Alright, I’ll help.”he said, pushing himself to his feet.

Hermione, as the bushy haired girl introduced herself, went one way to ask about the toad, while Ron and Harry went in another direction.Harry knocked on a compartment door while Ron stood behind him, complaining under his breath.The door clicked, and a massive boy opened it, staring at Harry with a dull expression.

“Hello, have you seen a toad?”Harry asked.The massive boy turned to face a smaller boy with pale blonde hair and a pinched looking face.

“Draco?”  the massive boy asked.  The blonde boy, Draco, looked at Harry and Ron, and scowled.

“Red hair, freckles, more children than they can afford, let me guess, a Weasley.”Draco sneered.Harry putt an arm across the doorway to prevent Ron from charging into the compartment and starting a fight.

“Okay, have you seen a toad?”Harry asked again, wanting to get this over with.“Small, probably kind of round.They’re usually a sort of brown color?”Harry described.Draco examined Harry, eyes lingering on Harry’s clothes in particular. 

“Get out, I can practically smell the stench coming off you mud-“Draco didn’t get to finish his sentence.Ron ducked under Harry’s arm and launched himself at Draco with a shout, and the two larger boys in Draco’s compartment soon joined in the scuffle.

Harry stood a moment, unsure whether to go find help or join in.He didn’t see any older students in the corridor, and if he left Ron might get hurt.Harry steeled himself and aimed a good kick at one of the larger boys’ exposed sides.How stupid did you have to be to leave your sides unprotected during a fight?Harry had been kicked and punched plenty enough times by Dudley and his friends to learn that much, he wasn’t a complete idiot.

The boy Harry kicked gave a loud yelp, and rolled out of the way, clutching at his ribs.Harry grabbed Ron by the back of his shirt, and elbowed that blonde boy, Draco, who was trying to scratch Ron’s face.A fist crashed into Harry’s face, he’d lost track of the second large boy.Harry grabbed onto Ron’s arm and ran, dragging his new friend along behind him.

As soon as they got back to their compartment, Harry closed the door, leaning heavily against the door and panting.  Ron flopped onto the seats, looking around with wide eyes and gasping for breath.  A bit of blood trickled from a scratch on Ron’s cheek, and Harry wiped his nose and came away with blood on his hand.

“You okay, mate?”Ron asked.

“I think so?”Harry walked to his seat and sat down, feeling a little wobbly.His heart was still pounding in his ears.“Haven’t done that in a while.”Harry muttered, if he hadn’t been in his room all summer he would’ve been able to run much further and faster, without Harry Hunting to keep him on his toes he’d gotten slow.

Ron and Harry waited a few minuted, but no one came knocking on their compartment door.Evidently they’d made a clean escape from Draco’s compartment.

“What was wrong with him?”Harry asked.

“He’s a Malfoy.”Ron said, as though that explained everything.

“A what?”

“I’ve heard of his family, met them at some Ministry ball my dad got invited to a few years back.”Ron explained, “After You-Know-Who disappeared they claimed they’d been bewitched.My dad doesn’t believe it.He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need any excuse.”Harry found himself grateful that they’d only gotten into a fistfight, if Draco’s dad was some kind of terrorist that fight could probably have gotten a lot worse.

“What was it that he was saying when you jumped on him?”Harry asked.Ron looked down at the floor, wiping a bit more blood off his cheek and leaving a red smear across his face. 

“It’s a really bad word for, well, people like you.Muggleborns.”Ron explained. 

“Well, what’s the word?”Harry asked, unwilling to let Ron leave it at that.

“I don’t really want to-“Ron objected.

“C’mon Ron, I need to know who to punch.”Harry joked, but Ron didn’t laugh.Ron gestured for Harry to scoot closer, and then leaned over so that he was all but speaking into Harry’s ear.

“Mudblood.”he whispered, as though someone might overhear him saying it.Harry sat back, considering it.

“Thanks.”Harry had been called an awful lot of things, and honestly, mudblood didn’t sound like the worst.It sounded like something his Aunt Marge would call him, but she always did have a thing about blood and breeding.

Ron laughed suddenly, “Look at us,”he said, waving between the two of them, “Even Fred and George didn’t get into a fight before they even got to Hogwarts.I’ll bet it’s a new record.”

“I wonder if we’ll get detention.”Harry didn’t know if wizards even had detention.Maybe they just put curses on the bad students, or turned them into turnips if they broke the rules.

“Maybe.”Ron admitted, “But I bet we’ll be in Gryffindor, so if we get detention it’ll be together at least.”Ron explained.  

“Gryffindor?”Harry had hoped for a different house.

“It’s one of the houses at Hogwarts,”Ron said, perking up at the chance to explain something that he knew, but Harry didn’t, “it’s where the brave and noble-“

“Er - I know this bit Ron.”Harry cut in.He’d read his history textbook.Ron deflated a bit.“I just thought I’d be in a different house.”

“Yeah, well, I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad.”Ron mused. 

“I’m hoping for Slytherin.”Harry added, and Ron gaped at him.

“What?Harry, why would you want to go there?”Ron asked.“That’s the house where You-Know-Who was in.”Ron added.

“I read that Slytherin house represents ambition and cunning.”Harry pointed out.

“Yeah, and that’s why you don’t trust books, they don’t say everything you need to know.”Ron said.“Slytherin is full of evil wizards.”he sounded very sure of that. 

“Oh.”Harry felt a little embarrassed, he hadn’t realized any of this, he’d thought the houses simply represented different personality traits like his history book said.

“Why’d you even want to be in Slytherin?”Ron asked.“You don’t seem like, you know, the type for that.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, his cheeks reddening, “Well, it’s kind of stupid,” Harry said, “I thought that it’d be really neat, because Salazar Slytherin could speak to snakes, and so can I.”Now that Harry said it out loud, it did sound pretty dumb.

“What?”Ron surged to his feet, face going pale.“You what?”Harry blinked up at him.

“Are you okay?”Harry asked, growing concerned for his newfound friend.Ron looked like he might faint where he stood.“Did you get hit on the head or something?”

“You can talk to snakes?”Ron demanded.

“Sure, I talked to a snake at the zoo, and then I got my cousin to catch a snake for me to talk to just to double check.”Harry explained, “It’s just snakes Ron.”Judging by Ron’s expression, it was definitely not just snakes that were worrying him.

“I thought you said you were muggleborn.”Ron said, accusing Harry of something, though Harry wasn’t quite sure of what.

“I am.”Ron stared at Harry for a long time, and took a deep breath, dropping into his seat with a loud thud.

“You’ve got no idea.”Ron breathed.

“Is this about the whole Parseltongue thing, because I checked, it’s been legal since 1877.”Harry explained, quite pleased that his reading was coming in useful so soon.Ron tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Mate,”Ron began, “You can’t tell people stuff like that.”

“I read it in a history book.”Harry said.

“Not that, the talks-to-snakes bit.”Ron corrected, his expression growing very seriously.“People don’t like Parselmouths, they’re evil.”Ron explained, as though this should be obvious.

“I’m not-“

“I know, you’re not evil.But Parselmouths are evil, there’s You-Know-Who, and Slytherin, and…”Ron trailed off, unable to list any other Parselmouths.

“And me, and Drust Gaunt, and Phrike Gaunt, and who knows how many others.”Harry added, growing annoyed.“I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I knew you’d get all weird about it.”

“Dust and Fright?”Ron asked.

“Drust and Phrike, they got executed like a hundred years ago for being Parselmouths.”Harry explained.He and Ron sat in silence for a long time after that.

“Okay,” Ron said, “Parselmouths might not be evil.”

“Really?”Harry was not feeling particularly thankful, potentially not evil was hardly a high bar to reach.

“But you’ve got to admit, there’s been an awful lot of bad ones.”Ron added.

“You could only name two.”Harry said.Ron huffed.

“Well, the bad ones are awfully well known compared to all the rest, all right?” 

“All right.”Harry agreed.

 “So you really shouldn’t go around telling people that you’re a Parselmouth.People are going to think you’re evil,”Ron said, then grimaced, “like I did.”he admitted. 

“I thought people would be over that.”Harry hadn’t even considered that people might react badly if he told them he could speak to snakes.Ron opened his mouth to say something else, but Hermione and the boy who’d lost his toad, Neville, opened the compartment door.

“We found Neville’s - What happened to you two?”Hermione asked, looking at Ron and Harry.  

“The toad found us first.”Harry said, and Neville dropped the large amphibian in his hands in horror. 

“He’s joking.”Ron added.Neville nodded, and picked the toad back up before it could escape again, though he gave it a rather suspicious look.“We got into a fight.”

“There’s no fighting allowed on the train.”Hermione said, with absolute certainty.

“We didn’t do it on purpose.”Harry said, Hermione only sniffed, clearly not believing Harry’s excuse.

“I’ll go get a Prefect.”Hermione turned, but Harry and Ron both jumped to their feet.

“No!” Harry shouted.

“We’re fine.”Ron added.Hermione paused turning to look at them.

“You’re covered in blood.”She pointed out.Harry looked at his shirt and hands, there was a little blood on his hands, and maybe a drop of two on his shirt, but that was hardly _covered_ in blood.Ron did the same next to him.

“We’re fine Hermione, the fight’s over, no one got hurt.”Harry said, hoping to dissuade her.

“You’re both hurt.”she objected.

“Yeah, but not badly.”Ron muttered. 

“Hermione, I think that they’re both fine.”Neville added in a very quiet voice.

“Oh, okay.”Hermione said, looking disgruntled.“But if I see you fighting again, I’m going to get a teacher.”she warned.“The train’s going to be arriving soon anyway, you should get changed into your uniforms.”With that, Hermione marched off.Neville followed her a moment later, leaving Ron and Harry alone again.

“I hope I’m not in her house.”Ron said once he’d closed the compartment door.They both pulled on their black uniform robes over their clothes, and Harry tried to lick the side of his hand so that he could wipe off the blood, leaving a bit of a rusty-brown smear on seat upholstery.

“How do I look?”Ron asked, striking a pose.

“Got a little something,”Harry pointed to his cheek, and Ron hastily spit on his hand and tried to wipe the dried blood off. 

“We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time.Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.” A loud voice rung out through the train, seeming to come from everywhere at once.Harry and Ron checked for blood one last time, and stepped out into the crowded corridor just as the train slowed to a stop.


	10. An All But Inevitable Sorting

People rushed to get off the train, pushing and shoving their way toward the door.Harry leaped down the steps, and out on the cold platform.A flickering lamp stood at either end of the platform, but the rest was left in darkness.

Harry has his toes stepped on, and elbowed someone in the stomach in order to catch up with Ron, ducking to avoid being caught by the now-angry teenager he’d just elbowed.A booming voice could just barely be heard over the crowd of students.

“Firs’ years!Firs’ years over here!”Harry followed the voice, a giant bearded man stood with a lantern in hand, grinning at the small crowd of first years gathering at his feet.

 “C’mon now, follow me - any more firs’ years?  Mind yer step!”  he shouted, leading the way off the platform, and down a narrow, winding path to the edge of a lake.  Branches snagged Harry’s robes, and someone ahead of him tripped over a tree branch.

“Has anyone seen a toad?”Neville shouted from somewhere far behind.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,”the giant man yellow, “jus’ round this bend here.”

Harry gasped.Perched above a broad, dark lake sat a castle, its outline barely visible against the night sky, and hundreds of windows shone with yellow light, making the castle’s reflection in the lake below look like a second star-filled sky.Harry hadn’t imagined anything like this.

The first years were led down to the lake’s shore, where dinghies bobbed in the water.

“No more’n four to a boat.”Harry and Ron quickly claimed a dinghy, and Neville and Hermione climbed in after them.

“Are we going to have to row all the way to-“Hermione began to ask, but a deafening shout drowned out the end of her question.

“FORWARD!”the giant man said, and the little boats races across the lake, hardly leaving a wake behind them.No one said a word as the castle drew nearer and nearer, towering over them.The dinghies continued going forward, even as they approached a sheer cliff.

“Heads down!”they passed beneath a curtain of ivy, and into an underground chamber beneath the castle.As soon as the boats touched ground, everyone clambered out onto the rocky shore within the massive cave.

“Is this your toad?”the giant man asked, approaching Neville with a large toad in hand.It was indeed Neville’s beloved toad.

They followed the giant man down a passageway, and up a narrow staircase until they reached a grassy field right below the castle.From there, they were led to a massive wooden door.

The giant man knocked on the door three times, and the sound echoed across the lake.The doors opened, torchlight streamed out onto the upturned faces of the waiting first years.A severe looking woman in dark green robes stool in the doorway, examining every student with a hawk-like gaze.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall.”Harry faintly recalled that name from the acceptance letter he’d received back in July.

“Thank you, Hagrid.I will take them from here.”The giant man, Hagrid, released them into her custody, and they followed her into the entrance hall. 

In some ways, the entrance hall looked exactly as Harry had expected of a castle.The walls were stone, and torches in metal holders bathed the entire hall in flickering yellow light.In other ways, the castle was clearly magical.

The hall was so large that Harry could not make out the ceiling in the gloomy darkness where the torchlight couldn’t reach.They were quickly shown into a much smaller side-chamber where they had to crowd in, shoulder to shoulder, chattering nervously. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts.”Professor McGonagall addressed the crowd of students, who immediately fell silent when she spoke.“The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses.While you are here, your House will be like your family within Hogwarts.You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend your free time in your House common room.”

Harry was struck with the sudden fear that he and Ron might end up in different houses.Professor McGonagall said they would eat, sleep, and spend their free time with their House, did that mean he and Ron would never see each other again if they were sorted into different Houses?  

“The four House are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.Each House has its own noble history,”Harry heard several coughs and muttering from students around him, Ron included.Professor McGonagall glared at them until they fell silent.

“And each has produced outstanding witches and wizards.While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points.At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor.I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.”After that long, and rather solemn speech, they were given a few minutes to smarten up. 

“No blood?”Ron whispered, checking one last time.

“No blood.”Harry confirmed.A girl with dark brown hair standing nearby overheard, and gave them a somewhat disturbed look, before returning to her attempts to gather every last stray hair into her braid.

“How exactly do they sort us into Houses?”Harry asked, hoping he and Ron could find some way to guarantee they’d get into the same house.Maybe they could plan ahead and both do the same thing?

“Some sort of test, I think.”Ron said.“Fred said it hurts a lot.”

“Should we believe him?”Harry asked. 

“Er - probably not?”Ron didn’t sound entirely sure.Harry found himself growing more nervous at the prospect of a painful test of some sort, and in front of the entire school at that.Thankfully, looking around, everyone else looked quite nervous too.Hermione stood nearby, whispering to Neville about all of the spells she’d learned, while Neville looked increasingly fearful at the prospect of needing any of the spells Hermione had listed. 

When the screaming started, that certainly didn’t help anyone’s nerves.A troop of ghosts floated through the back wall, so engrossed in their conversation that they hardly noticed the first years until they’d gotten halfway across the room.

“I say, what are you all doing here?”one of the ghosts asked them, noticing the first years for the first time.

“New students!”another ghost cried, smiling at them.“Hope to see you all in Hufflepuff!”Before the ghosts could continue attempting to sway student to their respective Houses, Professor McGonagall returned.

“Move along, the Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”she said, herding the students into a line.“Follow me.”

With that, the first years walked into the Great Hall, glancing around with wide eyes at the wonderful scene which unfolded.Rather than being lit by torches, the Great Hall was lit thousands upon thousands of candles floating in the air above four long tables where students sat.

At the top of the hall lay another table, perpendicular to the other four, where professors sat, with Headmaster Dumbledore, looking just as he had on the chocolate frog card, sitting in the center upon a throne like seat.

Hermione, who walking just behind Harry, pulled on his arm and gestured at the ceiling above.Harry looked up, his mouth falling open.There was no ceiling, only the night sky, filled with stars. 

In the front of the hall, Professor McGonagall set up a stool, and on top of the stool she placed a tattered looking witch’s hat that looked like it might be carrying some rather nasty bugs, lice and such, beneath its brim.

Everyone in the hall fell silent, staring at the hat.The hat began to tear, until its brim opened up, and the hat began to sing.Harry stared, unsure what to think.It was certainly magical, he supposed, but compared to the ceiling, and the boats, and even the train, a singing louse ridden hat was…Harry had expected something else.

A long applause followed the hat’s song, and eventually the hall became still and silent once again, students turning to look at the first years in anticipation.

“I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”Ron whispered.Harry was left wondering just how to convince a hat to put him and Ron into the same house, Harry wouldn’t leave such important matters up to chance, he’d trick the hat if he had to.

He’d made one friend and he refused to lose that friend after less than a day of knowing one another.Harry straightened his shoulders, staring at the hat.He had to find a way to make sure the hat put him where he wanted to go.

Professor McGonagall unrolled a long parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,”she explained.Looking at the crowd of first years, Harry wondered just how big their names were written on that parchment, there’s weren’t a whole lot of first years, and it was a very long parchment. 

“Abbott, Hannah.”Professor McGonagall announced.A girl with pigtails stumbled to the front of the hall, and put on the hat, which engulfed almost her entire head.After a long pause, the hat’s brim opened. 

“Hufflepuff!”it shouted, and the far right table burst into cheers as Hannah tore off the hat and ran over to find a seat.

“Bones, Susan.”Professor McGonagall shouted.The sorting continued student by student, with the hat taking anywhere from a split second to several minutes to come to a decision.Harry couldn’t tell how the hat was deciding which house to send students to.Much to Harry’s terror, he was called forward far sooner than he’d expected. 

“Evans, Harry.”He hadn’t enough time to figure out how to make sure he and Ron got put together.Harry walked to the front of the hall, feeling as though he were walking through molasses.He climbed onto the stool, and Professor McGonagall dropped the hat over his head with little ceremony. 

The hat fell down over his eyes and plunged him into darkness.Harry waited, thinking furiously of some way to make this work out.Ron had said his family always got into Gryffindor, so all Harry had to do was figure out how to get into Gryffindor, that should be simple enough, he just had to act brave right?How would a stupid hat know if he was faking it? 

“Slytherin!”The hat shouted, before Harry even had time to begin enacting his plan.Harry took off the hat, thinking it rather unfair that he only got a second to convince the hat whereas some people got a couple minutes.

The Slytherin table gave a halfhearted cheer, one older student gave a loud whistle, many of the students were looking at him with undisguised curiosity.Harry trudged to his table, meeting Ron’s gaze across the hall.Harry tried to silently convey that he’d tried, but he was too far away to properly see Ron’s expression, whether it be anger or disappointment.


	11. Our Sort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Discussion of bigotry (honestly, this should be a general warning for the entire fic by now).

Harry took an empty seat between the two first years who’d been sorted into Slytherin before him, Crabbe and Bulstrode.Hermione and Neville both ended up in Gryffindor, and much to Harry’s dread, that boy Draco ended up in Slytherin, with the hat spending almost as little time on his head as it had spent on Harry’s.

Looking up at the Hight Table, Harry saw Hagrid and Headmaster Dumbledore, and then there was Professor Quirrell, still wearing that large purple turban.Harry winced, he’d felt a brief, but piercing pain in his head.

Harry hoped he hadn’t hurt his head more than he thought in that fight with Draco, Crabbe and Goyle.Harry didn’t recognize anyone else sitting at the High Table, other professors no doubt. 

Finally, second to last, “Weasley, Ronald.” was called up to be sorted.Ron looked horribly nervous as he walked up to the front of the hall.Ron sat under the Sorting Hat for a very long time, perhaps the longest of any of the first years who’d been sorted so far.People began to whisper.

Finally, the hat shouted “Gryffindor!” and Harry groaned.He’d held out hope that Ron might be sorted elsewhere, but Ron had been right, everyone in his family went into Gryffindor.The Gryffindor table burst into cheers, with the twins, Fred and George, being by far the loudest.After Ron was “Zabini, Blaise.” who promptly became a Slytherin, and seemed wholly untroubled by that turn of events.

Once the Sorting Hat and stool were put away, Headmaster Dumbledore stood and addressed the gathered students, grinning and raised his arms high in the air as though he were conducting an orchestra.

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!”he shouted, “Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words.And here they are: Nitwit!Blubber!Oddment!Tweak!Thank you!”with that, the headmaster sat back down, and everybody clapped and cheered.

“Nutter.”A girl to his left hissed, Millicent something if Harry remembered right from the sorting. 

“A bit.”Harry agreed, the headmaster certainly did sound a bit off his head. 

The gold dishes covering the table were suddenly full of food of every variety.Beef, chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, every sort of vegetable and sauce.Harry stared at the food in awe, having never seen so much food in one place before.

Harry wouldn't call himself starved, but he’d also never been allowed to eat as much as he wanted.Taking the opportunity, Harry piled his plate with everything he could reach, even if that meant lunging across the table to grab a couple rolls off of a distant platter.

“Gravy?”Crabbe offered, and Harry gladly accepted, slathering it over most of his plate while Crabbe looked on in mild interest.“Guess you’re hungry.”Crabbe said.

“Starving.”Harry dug in and Crabbe did much the same.Across the table, Draco carefully cut his food into bite sized pieces, laid out a napkin across his lap, and even selected the correct fork.

“Crabbe, you’re eating like a starving muggle.”Draco said, meeting Harry’s gaze.Draco had a notable bruise on his jaw, and unlike Crabbe, Draco did not appear willing to forget their little tussle anytime soon.

Before Harry could think of some response, or worse, get into yet another fist fight, the girl sitting next to Draco turned to him.

“Harry Evans correct?”she asked.“I’m not familiar with your family, where are you from?”Draco gave an incredibly smug smile at that. 

“Little Whinging, Surrey.”Harry answered easily enough.“And you are?”

“Pansy Parkinson.Surrey, where is that?”she asked.Harry blinked, Pansy’s accent certainly sounded British, but she’d never heard of Surrey, a whole county?Harry might not be able to name every county off the top of his head, but he felt relatively certain he’d recognize the names of all of them if given a list.

“Well, Surrey is generally south and south-west of London, and Little Whinging is in the northern part of Surrey.”Harry tried to explain. 

“I know of London.”Pansy said, which Harry found somewhat reassuring.

“What about Portsmouth?”Harry asked, thinking that maybe he could describe where Little Whinging was relative to London and Portsmouth.Pansy looked confused. 

“He’s from a muggle village.”Draco said, and Pansy’s confusion melted into a sort of pity and disgust.Harry felt that correcting Draco, Little Whinging could hardly be called a village with so many people, would not help his situation.

“Oh,” Pansy said, “Your parents were our sort, right?”Pansy and Draco were not the only students listening to this conversation, Cabbe and Millicent were watching carefully, as was Goyle at Draco’s side, and even Zabini watched in between bites of sausage, looking entertained.

Harry reddened, this was the Parselmouth conversation all over again, Harry needed someone to tell him what topic witches and wizards raised with magic would get hung up on before he stumbled onto them in conversation.

“Our sort?”Harry asked, trying to tread carefully.

“A witch and wizard Evans, were your parents a witch and wizard.”Draco clarified.Harry realized where this conversation was going, Draco’s smirk gave the game away. 

“Oh, that.”Harry wondered whether it might be better to lie.“Well, my mum wasn’t, but I don’t know for certain about my dad.”Harry explained. 

“He’s a muggleborn.”Draco said, drawing out the word.“I saw him wearing those horrible muggle clothes, all dirty and torn up on the train, and he did this,”Draco pointed to his bruised jaw, “brawling like he’d never even seen a wand.”Pansy gave a quiet gasp.Millicent rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t look muggle to me.”Crabbe said, examining Harry’s robes.

“I meant on the train you idiot, not right now.”Draco hissed.Crabbe looked dejected for a moment, but quickly resumed eating.

Conversation at among the first years grew strained after that.Harry found that conversations seemed to work their way around him, without every including him as a participant.When deserts arrived, Harry loaded up his plate and tries his best to ignore the conversations going on around him.Millicent elbowed him in the gut, 

“They’re a bunch of stuck-up pricks, don’t let them get to you.”she whispered.

“Millicent, what would your father say?”the girl sitting on Millicent’s other side said, though Harry doubted she meant it seriously.

“Just telling the muggleborn where we stand.”Millicent waved the girls’ concerns, whether in jest or not, away.Harry felt a bit down for the remainder of the feast.He knew not to let it get to him, the Dursleys hadn’t been any better, but at least he’d expected the Dursleys to either insult or ignore him, he’d thought his classmates would be different.

Once the deserts had disappeared, the headmaster stood again and addressed the hall. 

“Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered.I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

“First years should not that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils.And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”The announcements continued for a time, no magic in the corridors and such.Headmaster Dumbledore spoke about Quidditch trials, but Harry hadn’t a clue what Quidditch was, or what it entailed. 

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”Harry laughed at that, as did Crabbe and Goyle, but very few others.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!”the headmaster announced, and the professors at the High Table continued to smile as well, though the smiles grew strained.

“Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!”Headmaster Dumbledore flicked his wand, sending forth a golden ribbon which twisted about in the air, forming the words of the song. 

Harry tried to sing to the tune of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’, but soon found that the words did not fit the tune at all, too many syllables in all the wrong places, and he was left chanting the words with little tune at all.

Millicent had chosen some kind of swooping operatic tune, and Draco remained stubbornly silent.Across the hall, at the Gryffindor table, Ron’s brothers Fred and George were the very last to finish, having chosen a very slow melody.

“Music, a magic beyond all we do here.”The headmaster said, and Harry thought he saw tears glittering on the headmaster’s cheeks.“And now, bedtime.Off you trot!”

“First year Slytherins, follow me.”A tall girl with black hair and a narrow, pointed face said, standing up at the end of the Slytherin table.“Come on you lot, get up and get moving.”She barked, giving the over-stuffed and very tried first years a wide, toothy grin.

Harry stumbled to his feet, feeling like he might fall sleep at any moment.The first year Slytherins were led through a small door on the right-side of the Entrance Hall, and down a winding stair case, along a stone passageway, and down another staircase, where they came to a sudden stop at bare stretch of smooth, stone wall.Harry wondered if they were waiting for stragglers to catch up. 

“Listen up, the password is _Doxie_.”the girl who’d led the way said.At the word Doxie, the stone wall rippled, and a passageway appeared.The passageway opened up into a large room with low stone ceilings and dark windows.Lanterns hung from the ceiling at intervals, and let out a dim, green light.A fire burned steadily at the far end of the room, and large leather chairs and couches were scattered about.A couple older students lounged on the couches, chatting.

The girl who’d led the way walked to the end of the room and stood in front of the fireplace.“Everyone find a seat.I know you’re all tired, but we’ve got a few announcements to get out of the way before you head to bed.”She shouted.The chairs quickly filled up, and Harry sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace, Crabbe and Goyle sat down next to him, and Draco tried to squeeze himself onto one of the couches. 

“My name is Gemma Farley, I’m one of your prefects this year.Terence Higgs is the other prefect, you’ll be seeing him around.Welcome to Slytherin!”Gemma said, and a few of the older students who’d been chatting paused to give a few whoops and claps.“Now, now, don’t get too excited.”Gemma warned with a grin.

“The hallway on my left,”Gemma pointed at the passageway to the right of the fireplace, “leads to the girls dormitories.On my right are the boys dormitories.”She gestured to the passageway on the left of the fireplace.“No fighting in the dormitories, and lights out is at eleven for first years.”That got a few groans.Gemma gazed around the room.“Flint, get over here.”She shouted. 

A hulking teenager came wandering over from his seat in the corner of the common room, looking someone annoyed at being called out.“Yes?” 

“Show the boys to their rooms, Terence is out sick.”Gemma instructed, “Girls, you all follow me and I’ll show you to your beds.”

“Lazy git.”Flint muttered, leading the way down the passageway to the boy’s dormitories.They passed six doors, and stopped at the door at the very end of the hallway.“Here you are Firsties, find the bed where your trunk is.If I hear any arguing you’ll regret it.”Flint warned.With that, Flint left them to sort things out on their own.

The boys dormitory consisted of a large square room with beds pushed up against the walls, and a door leading into the bathroom opposite the entrance.The beds were very large, and covered in soft green blankets.Pale gray curtains hung around each bed, giving some semblance of privacy.Harry quickly found his trunk, sitting at the end of the bed to the right of the bathroom door. 

They were too tired to talk much. 

“Sorry ‘bout kicking you earlier.”Harry said to Goyle, as Goyle got ready to go to sleep in the next bed over. 

“Huh?”Goyle looked confused for a moment, “That?No prob’m, was a good fight.”Goyle said with a yawn.Harry shucked his robes, and crawled into his bed, not even bothering to unpack his pajamas or brush his teeth. 

Harry fell into a deep sleep almost immediately, and dreamed a very strange dream.A snake crawled out of the Sorting Hat and said he belonged in Gryffindor, but the snake turned into a long scarf, and Professor Quirrell tied it about his head as a turban, but the snake continued to speak.Harry woke up momentarily, but rolled over and fell right back asleep, the memory of the dream vanishing like smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write Slytherin a house that isn't entirely bigots, but which which has enough very outspoken bigots with influential families to make other students hesitant to speak out against them. I definitely don't plan to make the entire house Death Eaters or anything like that.


	12. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, general warning for discussion of bigotry, and this time some talk of executions thrown in for good measure.

Harry woke up to find that the rest of his dorm was still sleeping soundly.Harry felt wide awake, and quietly unpacked some clothes and went to take a shower.Feeling clean and refreshed, and trying not to wake anyone up, Harry tiptoed out of the dormitory and into the common room. 

In the daylight, the common room looked entirely different.Pale green slight streamed in through the windows, and little schools of fishes swam by just outside the glass.Paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, and a couple of students sat in the common room, reading or playing card games.All that remained in the fireplace were ashes and charred bits of wood. 

Harry took a seat in front of the fireplace and wondered what time breakfast would be at.He didn’t think he’d be able to find his way back to the Entrance Hall on his own. An older boy with short brown hair took a seat in one of the chairs across from Harry. 

“Hello, first year right?”the boy asked, “I’m Terence Higgs.”he held out a hand.Harry leaned over and shook it.

“Harry Evans, Gemma and Flint mentioned you.”Harry said.Terence smiled.

“I’m sure Gemma wants to skin me about now.”He said good-naturedly.“Had to spend the night in the hospital wing, drank some bad pumpkin juice on the train.”Terence said, as though telling strangers about his digestive troubles were quite normal.“Evans, that’s Muggle right?”Terence asked in a softer tone.

“Is that a problem?”Harry asked, getting rather annoyed that everyone was making such a big deal of it.

“Not at all, not at all.” Terence held up his hands in surrender.“You’ve already run into the more…opinionated members of our noble House?”Terence asked. 

“A few.”Harry admitted, unsure of where exactly Terence stood on this.Terence gave a sympathetic nod. 

“I got lucky, got a distant uncle in the Ministry, but otherwise it’s all Muggles in my family.”Terence explained, “If anyone asks, I say I’m a half-blood.”Terence spoke quietly enough that their conversation would not be overheard, though the common room was nearly empty.

“Oh.”Harry had already missed his chance to lie, Draco made sure all the first year Slytherins knew where Harry was from.“No one told me this would be a problem.”

“Just keep your head down, and remember that not everyone agrees with the traditionalists, but most people keep quiet about that kind of thing, saves everyone a lot of trouble.”Terence advised.“If anyone starts giving you problems, let me know.Gemma’s a good sort, but her family’s a bit…”Terence shook his head, “Just come to me about that sort of thing, I’ll do what I can.”Terence assured him. 

“Are we the only… you know?”Harry gestured between himself and Terence.

“Mudbloods,”Terence suggested in a dark tone.Harry looked up at him with wides eyes, and Terence had the decency to look apologetic, “Sorry.And no, there’s a couple others.We had Ian until last year, he took his NEWTs over the summer and decided not to come back for seventh year.There’s Bole, but he won’t admit it.Miriam Vlasic and, uh, I think Lynn is half-and-half.”Terence explained.“Miller too, but he’s an ass.Don’t go spreading this around though.”

“I won’t.”Harry promised.He was starting to understand why people might not want it well known that they came from Muggle backgrounds.“Are the other Houses like this?”Harry wondered if things would be like this in Gryffindor too, he hoped Hermione wasn’t going through the same thing.

“It depends.”Terence said, “There’s gits in every House, we just get more of them than most.”Harry decided he’d make sure Hermione was doing okay as soon as he could.

At breakfast, Harry spotted Ron sitting at the Gryffindor table almost immediately, and rushed over to an empty seat.

“Ron!”Harry greeted, “Neville, Hermione!” 

“Harry, you’re supposed to eat at your House table.”Hermione pointed out, sitting next to Ron. 

“Why’d you go into Slytherin, I thought we’d sorted that out on the train?”Ron asked, sounding rather put out. 

“It’s not like I got a choice.”Harry said, grabbing some toast.Ron continued to look unhappy.

“I tried to get the stupid hat to put my in Slytherin.”Ron muttered.

“You’re not missing much.Did you now Slytherins live in the dungeons?”Harry asked, reaching across the table for some toast.

“I did!”Hermione said, to no one’s surprise.

“How’s Gryffindor anyway?”Harry asked.“Any trouble?”he directed that second question toward Hermione, who blinked in confusion.Ron launched into a lengthy description of the boy’s dormitory, and how nice the beds were. 

“Ron snores.”Neville cut in. 

“I do not!” 

“It’s very loud.”Neville added, grabbing a couple more slices of bacon.Ron sputtered.

“What about Slytherin?”Hermione asked.“ _Hogwarts a History_ said that there’s windows which look out under the lake.” 

“I saw some fish out the windows this morning.”Harry said, and Hermione looked quite excited to have been correct.

“Do you have to share a room with Malfoy?”Ron asked in disgust.Harry slumped a bit.

“Malfoy’s kind of a-“ 

“Ponce?”Ron suggested.

“Bigot.”Harry finished. 

“Well, he is in Slytherin.”Ron pointed out, as though that ought to be expected, and as though Harry were somehow any less Slytherin than the rest of his house.Hermione frowned.

“Have you told Professor Slughorn, he’s Head of Slytherin.If someone’s bullying you he should do something about it.”She suggested. 

“It’s not everyone in Slytherin, it’s just…people don’t say anything when it happens.”Harry said, “I think everyone’s trying to ignore it, or pretend they’ve got nothing to do with Muggles at all.”Hermione frowned at that.

“Slytherin is famous for its traditionalists.”Neville said quietly, looking thoughtful.“My Gran says Azkaban would be almost empty if you had all the Slytherins kissed.”Ron looked a bit sick at that idea.Harry opened his mouth to ask what ‘kissed’ mean, he’d seen in it one of his books, but he was interrupted.

“Mr. Evans,”came a stern voice.Harry turned around, and found Professor McGonagall standing over him, a pile of papers in her hands.“Please return to your proper table for meals.”  

“Sorry, Professor.”Harry picked up his plate, “See you later.”He said to his friends, and walked back to his table.The other first years in Slytherin had trickled in while he’d been talking with the Gryffindors.A couple gave him strange looks when he came over from another table, but most completely ignored him.

Professor Slughorn, a rotund man with gray hair and a cheerful demeanor, passed out schedules to each of the Slytherin students.Harry noted with joy that the first year Slytherins had two classes with Gryffindor, flying and potions.Even if McGonagall wouldn’t let him sit with the Gryffindors, at least he’d get to see Ron, Hermione and Neville in class.


	13. Better Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Harry nor Draco know when to keep their mouths shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some schoolyard violence.

For all Harry’s excitement about his classes, the reality turned out to be far less interesting.The only two classes where they were actually taught to cast spells, Transfiguration and Charms, the first weeks were spent learning basic wand movements and casting the same one or two spells over and over again.The rest of his classes didn’t even involve casting spells, much to Harry’s disappointment. 

Astronomy was all about learning the stars and planets, but the walk from the dungeons to the astronomy tower every Tuesday night was very long and involved climbing at least thirteen flights of stairs.

History was taught by Professor Binns, a dreadfully boring ghost, and Harry took to doing homework for other classes or taking a nap during history lectures.Herbology at least got the students outside, and magical gardening turned out to be a lot more interesting than gardening at Privet Drive.

The excitement quickly worse off, and Harry realized that Hogwarts was a school, just like muggle schools, with homework and everything.He’d hoped witches and wizards hadn’t discovered homework yet, like lightbulbs or cars.Writing essays on magic didn’t make it much better, it was still an essay, and writing with quills everything more difficult than it needed to be.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had been the class Harry most looked forward too, Professor Quirrell taught it after all.The class turned out to be a complete joke, Professor Quirrell’s stuttering became even worse when confronted with a classroom full of students, and that awful rotting garlic smell that surrounded Professor Quirrell was much, much worse in the small classroom.Within minutes of class starting, Harry’s head was bounding, and he could barely follow the lecture at all.

During the first class alone, Professor Quirrell changed topics at least a half dozen times, and every time a student asked a question he’d get distracted and end up muttering about something else entirely. 

Rumor had it that Professor Quirrell had run into some vampires during his sabbatical, and that’s why he was so nervous, and also why his constantly smelled of garlic, he was hiding whole cloves in his turban.At least, that’s what Harry overheard other students saying.

Harry waited in Professor Quirrell’s classroom after that first class, it was the last class Harry had on Wednesday.The rest of the Slytherin and Hufflepuff students eventually gathered up all their things and left, eager to go play outside or spend some time with friends in their common rooms.Harry waited.

“Professor?”Harry asked, approaching Professor Quirrell’s desk once the classroom had emptied.Professor Quirrell jumped, looking around wildly until his gaze settled on Harry. 

“Mr. Evans, h-h-how l-lovely to s-s-see you again.”Professor Quirrell said, relaxing slightly, though he remained tense, his eye twitching periodically. 

“You said that I should come and see you if I had any questions.”Harry reminded him, “Well, sir, I did some reading, and I found something…confusing.”

“Of c-c-course Mr. Evans, I am h-happy to answer y-y-your q-q-questions.”Professor Quirrell said, waving for Harry to continue.

“I read part of that book, _Evolution of Darkness_ , and there’s a section about Parseltongue, sir.I am a little confused.What exactly is Parseltongue?”Harry asked.This, evidently, was not at all what Professor Quirrell expected, the man went very pale.

“W-w-well, P-p-parseltongue is th-the ability t-t-to s-speak t-to s-s-snakes.”Professor Quirrell explained.

“That’s it?”Harry asked, and the professor nodded slightly.“And how do people become Parseltongues?”Professor Quirrell fixed Harry with a very intent look, the man’s face looked nearly bloodless now.

“It is inherited.”Professor Quirrell said in an odd tone. 

“Can Muggles be Parselmouths?”Harry asked, finally getting to the question he really wanted an answer to.  

“Parseltongue is a magical skill Mr. Evans, one must have magic to be a Parselmouth.”Professor Quirrell’s stare left Harry feeling at though he couldn’t move, like a mouse caught in a hawk’s gaze.“Mr. Evans, what is the point of these questions?”Professor Quirrell asked, folding his hands on top of his desk, meeting Harry’s eyes with his own, burning gaze.Harry looked at his shoes.

“Sir,”Harry swallowed, after what Ron told him he’d become rather nervous about telling anyone about this, “I can speak to snakes.”Professor Quirrell leaned back in his chair, no trace of anger on his face, only a vague look of interest that left Harry feeling a little cold. 

“You said I’m Muggleborn, but if I’m a Parselmouth, doesn't that mean…”Harry trailed off.

“You are correct Mr. Evans.”Professor Quirrell confirmed.“Unless you wish to miss dinner, you should be leaving now Mr. Evans.” 

Harry nodded, his head felt full of cotton.

“Thank you, Professor.”he said, though the action felt distant.

It wasn’t until Harry had walked almost all the way to the Great Hall that he realized Professor Quirrell had hardly stuttered at all during their conversation.Perhaps the professor stuttered so much because groups of people made him nervous?Harry had yet to see Professor Quirrell encounter something he wasn’t afraid of, except maybe books.

Harry’s Housemates continued to give him a bit of a wide berth, especially those in Harry’s year.Millicent, Crabbe and Goyle would speak to him occasionally, and Harry was becoming quite certain that Millicent didn’t actually care at all that he’d grown up without magic, though she never came out and said it directly. 

By Friday, Harry was relieved to finally have a class with Gryffindor.He and Rom immediately found an empty table together.It quickly became clear that neither of them were any good at potions, but at least they didn’t fare as badly as Neville and Hermione, whose cauldron melted spectacularly.

Professor Slughorn dismissed class an hour early, sending Neville to the hospital wing, and shooing all of the students out of the lab so that he could clean up the mess.Harry and Ron decided to go walk around the lake and enjoy the sunny afternoon.

“Poor Neville.”Hermione said, “He stirred clockwise instead of counterclockwise.”Harry wasn’t entirely sure why Hermione followed him and Ron out to the lake, she didn’t seem to have any friends, except maybe Neville.Harry had somewhat hoped to speak to Ron in private.

“Do witches and wizards keep birth records?”Harry asked. 

“Dunno.”Ron said with a shrug, “The Ministry keeps lots of records.”Hermione perked up.

“Are you doing research for Professor Binns’s class?”she asked.

“Er - no.”Harry said, and Hermione looked a little disappointed.“Just looking for some records.” 

“Can I help?”Hermione asked, looking hopeful, “I’m good at research.”Harry almost said no, but realized that he could use the help.He didn’t even know where to start searching for his dad, he didn’t have a name or description, all he knew was that his dad must have been a Parselmouth, but Harry wouldn’t be surprised if lots of Parselmouths tried to keep that a secret. 

“Actually, that would be great.”Harry said, and Hermione beamed.“It’s a little personal though, so you can’t tell anyone about it.”

“It’s nothing illegal, right?”Hermione asked, becoming a bit suspicious.“Or against the rules?”

“It’s been legal since 1877.”Harry said.Ron stopped walking.

“Wait a minute, this isn’t about-“Ron made a strange wiggly gesture with his hand, Harry nodded slightly.“Harry, we talked about this already!”

“Ron, I asked Professor Quirrell about it, he says Muggles can’t be Parselmouths.”Harry explained.“That means my dad-“

“What’s a Parselmouth?”Hermione interrupted, looking extremely curious. 

“Harry, you can’t just go around telling everyone that you’re-“Ron began, but Harry ignored him.

“It’s someone who can talk to snakes.”Harry told Hermione.

“Don’t blame me when people start thinking you’re You-Know-Who’s bastard son.”Ron muttered. 

 “Oh!How fascinating.”Hermione said, excitement lighting her eyes, “So you’re one of these Parselmouths?How does that work?Are snakes intelligent?Can you speak to any snake?What about lizards, or crocodiles?”Hermione asked, speaking faster and faster.

“Hermione, slow down.”Harry said, “I only learned about it a few months ago, I don’t know how it works.”Hermione’s thoughts were still clearly speeding along, and she scrunched her eyebrows together, clearly puzzled.

“I thought you said you were Muggleborn?”she said.

“I thought I was, my mum was a Muggle, and I didn’t know a thing about magic until Professor Quirrell gave me my letter,”

“Professor McGonagall brought me my letter.”Hermione added. 

“And I read about Parseltongue,” Harry continued, “And talked to Professor Quirrell after class.Parseltongue is inherited, and you have to have magic to be a Parselmouth.”Harry said.

“So your dad must have been a Parselmouth!”Hermione said, finishing Harry’s thought.

“I’m not sure you should look into this.”Ron said, looking nervously between Harry and Hermione, “It’s not that I don’t think you should find your dad,”Ron backtracked, seeing Harry’s glare, “But a lot of people think Parseltongue is really bad news.”

“We already went over this Ron.”Harry snapped.

“I’m not agreeing with them.”Ron shot back.“But if you start asking a lot of questions, people are going to think you’re getting into Dark magic and such, or that you’re really into You-Know-Who.”He explained. 

“Well, that’s completely stupid.”Hermione snapped, “We’re not going to do anything bad, we’re just doing research.Knowing things isn’t bad, it’s only if you do bad things with what you know.”she said, clearly passionate about the topic.“Harry, we’re going to the Library.”Hermione announced.

“What?”Harry hadn’t meant that they should start right away.Hermione gave him a steely look, “Of course.”Harry agreed quickly, desperately hoping Ron would come up with some kind of excuse for why they shouldn’t go to the Library this very moment.  

“Hey, I didn’t agree to anything,”Ron began, but Hermione turned that glare onto Ron, who immediately quailed (so much for Gryffindor bravery).

Harry hadn’t had any reason to go to the Library in his first week, but Hermione clearly knew the way.Harry and Ron exchanged looks of apprehension, and followed at her heels.

Hermione kept them trapped in the Library through most of the weekend, despite Ron’s loud complaints.Hermione took over a large table in the corner of the Library, and amassed a pile of books almost as tall as herself.She placed one book in front of Harry, and another in front of Ron, and would hear absolutely no objections from either boy about the amount of reading. 

By Sunday afternoon, Hermione had skimmed through seven or eight books, while Ron and Harry had each managed to flip through two books each.They weren’t reading every word, just looking for sections on specific topics, Parseltongue and Ministry record keeping at the moment.Hermione handled the Ministry records, diving into a pile of legal and administrative texts, while Harry and Ron were tasked with looking into Parseltongue. 

Harry and Ron decided that they’d had enough when Hermione looked ready to start pulling her hair out.“I don’t understand, there’s no census, no birth certificates, they don’t even keep death records!”Hermione fumed.“How can they govern anyone if they don’t know anything about the people they’re supposed to govern?”

Harry and Ron forced Hermione to take an early dinner break before she drove herself mad.Harry and Ron had also run into a roadblock in their research, despite Harry’s insistence that Parseltongue was perfectly legal, it remained categorized as Dark magic in the Library, which meant that texts discussing Parseltongue were kept in the restricted section. 

Harry’s legal arguments had no effect on the vulture-like librarian, Madam Pince. She refused to allow them to access texts from the restricted section without a note signed by a professor.She even threatened to ban Harry from the Library for the rest of the term if he continued trying to persuade her.Ron pulled Harry away from the librarian’s desk before he could get himself into any further trouble.

When they explained the problem to Hermione, she looked ready to scream, and ranted about outdated libraries and availability of knowledge the entire walk down to the dining hall for dinner.Harry nodded along, not understanding Hermione’s arguments at all, and Ron wondered aloud whether there’d be mashed potatoes at dinner that night.

Flying lessons started a week later than all the other classes, and Harry could hardly wait.As Thursday drew closer and closer, students began telling wilder and wilder stories about things they’d done while flying.Draco seemed to have spent most of his childhood narrowly avoiding being seen by Muggles in helicopters, and as Theodore would have people believe, he’d one almost caused a Muggle airplane to crash. 

There were plenty of laughs during meals at the idea of Muggles being so terrified at the sight of a broom that they’d almost crashed.In the minds of students who’d grown up flying on brooms, being afraid of a flying broom was as silly as being afraid of a bicycle.Even Ron had a ridiculous story about nearly crashing into a Muggle hang glider while out on his brother Charlie’s broom. 

Harry felt left out of these discussions, having never ridden a broom, and Hermione thought that spending so much time talking about sports was a waste, there were other, more important things to do in her mind, like homework.The fact that this was a subject which Hermione couldn’t learn from reading a book also factored into her general disapproval.

At breakfast on Thursday morning, Harry felt like he’d start vibrating if he became any more excited for flying lessons.Even Draco pretending to hold his nose against the nonexistent stench as he walked by Harry’s seat didn’t dampen his mood.Draco was playing with some kind of little glass ball throughout lunch, passing it around to other students and watching it glow white, or in the case of Crabbe, vivid red. 

Three-thirty rolled around, and Harry hurried across the school grounds at full speed.He didn’t want to be late for his first flying lesson.Twenty brooms lay lined up on the ground, and Madam Hooch watched the students with a hawk-like gaze.

“Everyone stand by a broomstick.Come on, hurry up.”she barked.Harry ended up stuck next to Draco.His broom looked a little beat up, with snapped twigs and what looked like scorch marks on the handle.

“Stick your right hand over your broom, and say, ‘Up!’”Madam Hooch instructed, pacing up and down the row of students.

“Up!”Everyone shouted.Harry winced as his broom smacked into his hand with a painful jolt.Most students continued to shout at their brooms, trying to get some kind of reaction.A few students ducked down to pick up their brooms off the ground while Madam Hooch wasn’t looking, growing frustrated as their brooms remained stubborns earthbound, despite their shouting.

Once everyone had a broom in hand, Madam Hoooch showed them all how to mount their brooms, correcting Draco several times.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,”said Madam Hooch.“Rise a few feet, and then come straight back down.”she instructed, “On my whistle - three - two -“ 

“That’s mine!”Neville shouted, and Madam Hooch turned to look at him, as did almost every other student.Neville reddened and slumped a bit beneath everyone gaze, but continued to stare at Draco, who was holding that little glass ball in his hands again. 

“No it isn’t.”Draco retorted, not quite hiding his grin.

“You stole it, my Gran sent that to me.”Neville argued, standing up a little straighter, though he still looked terrified.Draco laughed. 

“What, to make sure your mind’s all there?Too late for that Longbottom.”Draco said, and Neville’s face went curiously blank.Even Draco looked momentarily confused by the change of attitude, but put on a smug grin after a moment.

“Malfoy, Longbottom, do I need to give you both detention?”Madam Hooch asked.Neville shook his head, and returned to his broom in silence.

“No Madam.”Draco, sounding not at all sorry,and put the glass ball back into his pocket.Madam Hooch eyed him suspiciously, and blew her whistle. 

For a moment, every student in the class rose into the air simultaneously, but that harmony lasted only a split second before utter.Students began zig-zagging everywhere, a couple Gryffindors crashed into each other.

Goyle rose thirty feet and then dropped like a stone, almost landing on Hermione, who screamed and suddenly shot off like a rocket toward the castle.Madam Hooch frowned, casting a levitation charm to ensure that Goyle didn’t break anything on his way to the ground.

Harry rose slowly, and kept rising until he was well above most of the students.Ron flew in little circles until he came to a stop, hovering a bit above Harry and grinning down at him.Neville rose slowly, just a few feet above the ground, looking very shaky. 

“Go Neville!”Ron shouted, and Harry joined in, cheering Neville on.Neville looked very determined, more-so than Harry had ever seen of the round-faced boy.Neville continued rising, but he wasn’t looking at his broom, or at Harry and Ron.Instead, his gaze remained locked on Draco, who was flying in figure eights some fifteen feet higher. 

“You don’t think he’s going to…”Ron began, and Neville shot forward, leaning low to his broom.“Get him Nev!”Ron screamed, egging Neville on. 

“Does he know how to stop?”Harry asked.Madam Hooch hadn’t mentioned how to do that yet, Harry had figured it out easily enough, but he wasn’t sure if Neville had. 

“Of course he knows how to stop.”Ron said.With a loud crack, Neville slammed into Draco.“Wicked.”Ron muttered.For a moment, it looked as though Neville was trying to climb onto Draco’s broom, and Draco screaming something, but both boys soon began to fall like lead weights, bits of wood and broken twigs falling with them.

Madam Hooch, already busy tending to Goyle, wasn’t quick enough to lower Neville and Draco to the ground in the same way.Both boys landed with a thud, and a strangled shout.Madam Hooch immediately rushed over. 

“Everyone, to the ground now!”she barked, casting spells over Draco and Neville.Harry and Ron drifted to the ground, Harry wished he’d gotten longer to practice flying.“Class dismissed, I’m taking these two to the hospital wing.You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’”Madam Hooch said, helping Draco and Neville to their feet.Both boys were white faced and crying, they hobbled off with Madam Hooch leading them each by the arm. 

“Did you see that?”Ron asked Hermione as soon as she’d jogged back from wherever her broom has shot off to.Harry walked over to where the two boys had fallen.Bits of broken wood and shards of glass littered the ground.

Harry picked up one of the larger pieces of glass, it looked as though the solid glass had smoke inside it, swirling around and escaping from the broken edges as a misty vapor.In Harry’s hand, the smoke turned from white to red as the last of it escaped from the glass and vanished into the air.

“What was that ball?”Harry asked. 

“A Remembrall.Neville got it in the mail this morning, but Malfoy stole it.”Ron said, “It turns red if you’ve forgotten something important.”Harry wasn’t sure what he’d forgotten, maybe he’d left his bed unmade that morning?That hardly seemed important though.

Harry glanced at the piece of glass in his hand, but the vapor had escaped, leaving a jagged bit of clear, completely unremarkable glass.Harry tossed the glass onto the ground with the rest of the shards and bits of broken twigs and wood.He didn’t think he’d forgotten anything important, but then again, if he’d forgotten something that surely meant he wouldn’t remember that he’d forgotten it.

Since class had been dismissed early, they had almost an hour before history started.Ron said Fred had told him about a secret shortcut to the history classroom, and Harry agreed to give it a try.Hermione thought it was a bad idea, but came along anyway.

They ended up arriving just a few minutes before the history lecture ended, all three of them exhausted from climbing narrow staircases and running down winding corridors hardly wide enough to fit through, and all three of them were absolutely covered in dust and grime.Professor Binns didn’t even notice their arrival, he continued lecturing without pause, but Hermione looked about ready to hit Ron over the head with something heavy when she realized she was late to class.

Neville and Draco weren’t at dinner that evening, but everyone was talking about them.People were whispering that Longbottom had finally snapped, and others argued that it can’t have been Neville Longbottom, he was afraid of his own shadow.  

“How terrible.”Daphne said over dinner.Pansy sniffed. 

“I expected better of someone of Longbottom’s breeding.”Harry silently listened, this was hardly surprising coming from Pansy, but he’d still found the very idea of talking about a person’s breeding, as though they were some kind of fancy dog, to be unnerving.It reminded him all too much of Aunt Marge.

Harry caught Zabini’s eye, at least Zabini seemed as unhappy with the direction of this conversation as Harry, but then again, Zabini might just be bored, Harry could never quite tell what the other boy was thinking.Harry ate dinner in silence, having learned in his first two weeks at Hogwarts that it was far better not to bring attention to himself in Slytherin. 

It wasn’t until Goyle let out a reverberating belch that Pansy fell silent, her eyes widening at the boy sitting across from her.Goyle grabbed another roll and fit the entire thing in his mouth in a single, massive bite.Millicent cackled from Goyle’s side, and Pansy exchanged a scandalized look with Daphne, who merely rolled her eyes.

Slytherin wasn’t all bad, Harry decided, but he still wished he’d gotten into Gryffindor.Glancing over at the Gryffindor table, it looked like the Weasleys twins had set loose some kind of animated mashed-potato statue on the Gryffindor table, while Percy angrily waved a fork in their general direction.Harry sighed, why did they get to have fun while he got to sit through all this nonsense of breeding and blood?


	14. Neville's Big Fight

A few days later, on a lovely Saturday morning, Ron ambushed Harry on his way to breakfast, lookingwide eyed and out of breath.

“Harry!I need to talk to you.”Ron said, catching Harry before he could enter the Great Hall. 

“What’s going on?”Harry asked, blinking sleepily. He’d only just woken up and staggered up out of the dungeons.

“Not here.”Ron hissed, pulled Harry by the arm.They went to an empty meeting room off the Entrance Hall, Ron double checked that no one was hiding underneath the table or any of the chairs.Satisfied that they were alone, Ron turned to Harry. 

“Neville and Draco are going to duel.”Ron said.

“With guns?”Harry asked stupidly, still not entirely awake.

“What?No, a wizard’s duel,”Ron corrected, “And I’m Neville’s second.”he added, puffing out his chest a bit. 

“His what?”Harry thought he must have missed something, Neville and Draco were going to fight?Again? 

“His second.If he dies I’ll take over and finish Draco off.”Ron said, then seeing the look of horror on Harry’s face, he quickly added, “But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards.I’m sure Neville will be fine, he and Draco don’t know enough magic to do any real damage.” 

“Why are they dueling then, if they can’t actually hurt each other?”Harry didn’t know anything about wizard’s duels, but surely the point of the duel was to kill the other person, or at least do a bit of maiming. 

“I dunno, Neville said they agreed to it in the Hospital wing.” said Ron, “He was going to ask Hermione to be his second, she knows a lot of spells, but I told him she’d definitely tell a professor.” he confided.Harry agreed, Hermione was probably the last person Harry would tell if he planned to go breaking the rules. 

“When’s the duel?”Harry asked, he certainly didn’t want to miss this.Ron gave him a wide grin, as though this were exactly the question he’d been waiting for. 

“Midnight in the trophy room, tonight.”Ron said.Harry nodded, and the two boys split up to go eat breakfast.The day seemed to creep by at a snail’s pace, Harry tried to do his homework, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the duel.

Harry didn’t go to sleep that night.He sat on his bed, waiting, and listening to the snores of the other boys in the dormitory.Harry could be very patient, he used to have to spent all day in his cupboard sometimes, with nothing to do but think.

He thought that he ought to go talk to Professor Quirrell again, the professor had been very helpful so far, and he needed to learn more if he was going to find his .Harry tried to come up with questions he could ask the professor, how to word things nicely and sound somewhat intelligent, he had little else to do while he waited in the dark.

A quiet whisper interrupted his thoughts. 

“Crabbe, get up you lump.”Harry heard.Then came some movement, fabric whispering against fabric.

“I’m up.”Crabbe grunted, and Draco shushed him.Quiet footsteps padded across the floor.Harry waited a couple minutes, and slipped out of bed.He’d changed into his Muggle clothes earlier, trainers were much quieter than those leather shoes most witches and wizards wore, and jeans wouldn’t get tangled around his legs like robes would. 

Harry crept out of the dormitory, and down the passageway to the common room.The lanterns in the common room never went out entirely, though they were kept very dim at night.Harry peeked around the corner, but saw no sign of Crabbe or Draco.They must have gone out ahead of him.

Harry moved silently down the hallways and up the many flights of stairs between the dungeons and the trophy room on the third floor.Every creak or moan as the castle settled for the night became Filch or Mrs. Norris patrolling the halls, looking for unlucky students.

Harry had yet to actually meet Filch, but he’d heard horror stories from other students about Filch hanging up unlucky students by their thumbs, or locking students in the dungeons where nobody would ever find them.

Once in the trophy room, Harry raised his wand, whispering _Lumos_ under his breath.A white light bloomed from the tip of the wand, making the various cups and plates and statues twinkle inside the glass trophy cases.Harry had arrived only a few minutes before midnight, but no one else had arrived. 

“ _Nox_.”Harry put out the light, and found a corner to hide in, just in case Filch, or anyone else, came through, they might not notice him while he waited.

A few minutes passed.Harry wondered if he’d gone to the wrong room, in a castle as large as Hogwarts it wouldn’t surprise him that there would be more than one trophy room.He waited a little longer.

He heard footsteps.At least two people coming toward the trophy room.Harry hoped it wasn’t Crabbe or Draco, how had he gotten here before them anyway?Harry raised his wand, just in case.

“He’s late, maybe he’s chickened out.”Harry relaxed, hearing Ron’s voice.The footsteps grew closer, and Harry could just barely make out three figures in the darkness.He’d thought only Neville and Ron were coming.

“Hello?”Harry said.Someone yelped, and Ron cursed.

“Harry, don’t scare us like that.”Hermione said. 

“Yeah mate, don’t do that.”Ron chimed in. 

“ _Lumos.”_ Harry lit up the trophy room, smiling.Neville looked like he’d just seen a ghost, though, in Hogwarts perhaps he had.Hermione stood with her wand out, wearing a pink bathrobe.

“Where’s Malfoy?”Ron asked.None of them could answer that.

They heard someone speaking, and Harry quickly put out his light, it definitely wasn’t Draco or Crabbe.

“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”It had to be Filch.Harry pushed the others toward the other entrance to the trophy room, and they scrambled for the door, trying to remain quiet.

They heard the door open just as they rounded the corner.

“They’re in here somewhere,”Filch said, “probably hiding.” 

They continued to flee, Filch’s footsteps not far behind.Neville broke into a run, grabbing Ron by his sleeve, and ran right into a suit or armor, which fell with loud clanging and bangs. 

Realizing that they’d been heard, all four students broke into a run, not pausing to check whether Filch was following them or not.Hermione grabbed Neville and pulled him into a secret passageway, the same one she, Harry and Ron had tried to use to get to History with disastrous results.Harry and Ron followed, ducking behind the tapestry that hid the passageway.

“I told you.”Hermione said between gasps, “I told you.”Ron looked disgruntled, and Neville shivered.

“We’ve got to get back to Gryffindor Tower,” Ron said.

“What about me?”Harry had much further to go to get back to his House.Hermione, Ron and Neville glanced at Harry, looking a bit embarrassed. 

“Sorry, forgot you’re not in our House.”Ron said. 

“Malfoy tricked you.”Hermione said to Neville, “You realize that, don’t you?”Neville looked to be on the verge of tears, he had, evidently, realized that.

“I heard him and Crabbe get out of bed.”Harry pointed out.

“Malfoy must have tipped Filch off.”Hermione said.Harry suspected she was right.

A doorknob rattled a few doors ahead of them in the hallway, and Peeves came flying out of a classroom, cackling when he caught sight of them. 

“Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties?”

“Get out of our way.”Ron snapped, pointing his wand at Peeves, though Harry knew Ron didn’t know a single spell that’d have done anything to the poltergeist.

“Students out of bed!”Peeves roared, “Students out of bed!”They continued to run until they reached the door at the end of the corridor, a locked door. 

“We’re done for.”Ron moaned, they could here footsteps approaching.

“Move over.”Hermione grabbed Harry’s wand and pushed Ron out of the way.“ _Alohomora.”_ she hissed, and the lock clicked.They all rushed inside, and pressed themselves against the other side of the door, listening carefully.

Filch and Peeves argued just outside the door, until Peeves flew away laughing and Filch wandered off, cursing and muttering under his breath.

Neville tugged on Harry’s sleeve.“What?”Harry turned, and froze.They hadn’t walked into a room, rather, they’d walked into a corridor, a particular third-floor corridor in fact, which had been forbidden on pain of death.Harry could understand why now.

A dog the size of a two horses stacked on top of each other filled the hallway, with three massive heads and slobbering mouths full of teeth large enough to take a person’s head off in one bite.

The dog stared at them.Its heads began to growl. 

They all went right back outside again, choosing punishment from Filch over death any day.Ron slammed the door behind them.The hallway was empty, Filch having wandered off in search of the four of them elsewhere.

Hermione and Neville took off running, Ron grabbed Harry by the sleeve, 

“C’mon.”

“Slytherin dungeon’s the other way.”Harry said, but Ron didn’t let go.They came to a large portrait of a large woman in a gaudy pink dress holding a wine glass.

“Where on earth have you all been?Who is that?” the woman asked, looking at the four of them.

“Pig snout.”Hermione said, panting from the run.The portrait swung forward, and the four of them scrambled inside, Ron dragging Harry along behind him.

The Gryffindor common room was very different from the Slytherin common room, a large round room with hight ceilings and bare stone walls.Overstuffed armchairs and soft red couches littered the room, books and board games were scattered on tables, and embers glowed softly in the fire place.

It was smaller than the Slytherin common room, everything felt more crowded, and more lived in.Books and papers and games were left scattered about.No one in Slytherin left their belongings in the common area overnight, students in Slytherin were very concerned about theft.

The four of them sat in the common room, shaking.Neville stared at the fireplace, eyes wide and his face very pale.

“Did you see what the cerberus was standing on?”Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

“The what?”Ron asked.

“The dog.”Hermione snapped.“It was standing on a trapdoor.It’s obviously guarding something.”Hermione stood up, brushing off her bathrobe.“I’m going to bed.”she announced angrily, walking up a narrow, winding staircase and out of sight. 

“We didn’t drag her along, she made us take her along.”Ron said to Harry.

“I guess I should go back to my dormitory.”Harry said, dreading the long walk back.He wasn’t even entirely sure how to get back to the Slytherin dungeon, he’d never been in this part of the castle before. 

“You’re not going out there.”Ron said, “Mad, utterly mad.”

“Ron, if anyone catches me here-“ 

“I’ll wake you up before anyone else gets up, promise.”Ron assured him.Harry wasn’t so sure.“No one will find out.”

“Alright.”Harry agreed.Ron nodded.

“We’ll grab you some blankets.”He said, including Neville, who jolted a bit when Ron patted him on the shoulder.Ron and Neville climbed upstairs to the boys dormitories, and came back a few minutes later with a pile of fluffy red blankets and Ron helped Harry set up a little bed on the couch closest to the fireplace.

“Remember, wake me up before anyone else gets up.”Harry said.Ron waved off his concerns. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll remember.” 

Ron did not remember.

Harry woke up to Professor McGonagall staring down at him, Ron’s brother Percy standing by her side, arms crossed over his chest.

“Mr. Evans, have you forgotten your proper House?”Professor McGonagall said, looking displeased.

Harry made it back to the Slytherin dungeon with barely enough time to shower and change clothes before classes started, he had a week of detention to look forward to.

Harry didn’t even get to see the look on Draco’s face when Neville and Ron made it to breakfast, though Ron later assured him that it was hilarious.Harry tried to stay mad at Ron over the detentions, but after a few days he gave up on holding that grudge, it was far too much work to remember that he was supposed to be angry with his friend.


	15. Office Hours

After Defense ended, and the other students filed out, Harry lingered to speak to Professor Quirrell.

“Sir, I’ve been doing research, but I don’t know where to even begin looking for my dad.I know he must be a Parselmouth, and maybe he’s the one who left me that vault at Gringotts, but that’s all I know.”Harry said.Professor Quirrell thought for a moment.

“D-d-do you h-h-have any idea w-what f-f-family h-h-he may h-have c-c-come f-from?”Professor Quirrell asked, folding his hands on his desk.

“Sorry Professor, I don’t know anything about that.The only Parselmouth family from the last two hundred years I’ve read about is the Gaunts, but I don’t know if there’s any of them left, or if there’s other Parselmouth families in Britain.What if my dad’s not even British?”Harry was starting to feel as thought he’d never been able to find his dad, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to be an impossible task.

“The G-G-Gaunts…”Professor Quirrell mused.

“Do you know anything about them, Sir?”Harry asked, hope swelling in his chest.

“I h-h-have h-heard of them.”the professor said, “There are b-b-books.”

“Could you tell me the titles, please Sir?”Harry asked, books would be good, Hermione would know what to do once he had the titles.Professor Quirrell stood up.

“F-f-follow me Mr. Evans.”He said, “Do n-not t-t-touch anything.”Professor Quirrell led Harry through a door in the side of the classroom, and into a small, cramped office.A large desk sat in the middle of the room, covered in papers, ungraded essays, attendance lists, and notes in script that Harry couldn’t read.Shelves stuffed with books and scrolls covered every wall, and Harry even saw a human skull sitting on top of one of the shelves, complete with shiny glass eyes that swiveled about in their sockets.

Professor Quirrell ran a finger along the spines of the books, and pulled one out, setting it on his desk, then another.He turned to another shelf and took a third book, this one a bound in very worn looking leather, and added it to the pile.Harry read the titles.

_Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_

_Old Magic, Old Blood_ by Mucro Byrrus

_Seuere æt Sliðren: Descent of Slytherin_

“Mr. Evans, b-bring these b-b-back in one w-w-week.  Do n-n-not d-damage them.”  Professor Quirrell said, pushing the stack of books toward Harry.  Harry couldn’t possibly read all of those books in one week, but he took the books gratefully.

“Thank you Professor, I’ll be very careful.”Harry said, smiling at Professor Quirrell, who gave a quick, nervous nod.

Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table for dinner that evening, knowing that it would only be a matter of minutes before Professor McGonagall swooped down and told him to go eat where he was supposed to.She might even take a couple points. 

“Hermione, Professor Quirrell lent me some books for our research project.”Harry said, grabbing a pear.He didn’t want to discuss the project where anyone could overhear, but Hermione would be upset if he didn’t tell her right away. 

She’d become just as invested, if not more so, in figuring out who Harry’s dad was than Harry.He suspected the combination of obscure magical and legal information combined with the prospect of solving a real mystery pushed all the right buttons for Hermione. 

“I’ll be at the Library after dinner.”she said, in between bites of chicken.

“I’ve got detention with McGonagall.”

“I already said I’m sorry.”Ron said, having heard more than enough about this. 

“Friday afternoon?”Hermione suggested.“Ron?”Ron’s shoulders dropped, he’d clearly been hoping Hermione might just forget to drag him along.

“We could use another set of eyes.”Harry said.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be there.”Ron went back to devouring his mashed potatoes.Ron protested every time Harry and Hermione asked him to come along to the Library, but he was quite helpful to have around, he knew far more about magical traditions and manners than Harry or Hermione, and he could usually tell them if an author was a complete nutter, or if they were actually onto something.

The books Professor Quirrell had lent Harry turned out to be genealogy books, but for witches and wizards.Ron took one look at the titles and pronounced them “Death Eater nonsense,” and Hermione grabbed the largest text, _Nature’s Nobility_ , for herself. 

Harry took _Seuere æt Sliðren: Descent of Slytherin_ , thinking that it would be a biography of Salazar Slytherin; instead it was a record of Slytherin’s descendants and relatives, or at least, those who claimed to be descendants or relatives. 

Ron flipped open _Old Magic, Old Blood_ , and shortly after complained that the man who wrote it was obviously a You-Know-Who supporter, Ron even read aloud passages about the “low-bred mongrels which steal the magic of our children and grandchildren, leaving future generations withered imbeciles, and further polluting the bloodlines which magic was gifted upon.”Ron’s expression grew more and more disturbed as he read, and Hermione made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat.

None of the books were particularly pleasant, Harry’s had the least overt pureblood-supremacist nonsense, but made up for it with many generations of family trees with far too few branches to be healthy.Harry tried to draw out the family tree described in the book, just to keep track of the names if nothing else, but quickly found himself looking at something that far more resembled the pedigree of Aunt Marge’s bulldogs than any proper family ought to look.

“Please don’t let me be related to them.”Harry muttered, looking at the diagram he’d produced of the Gaunt family, as described in _Descent of Slytherin_.Calling it a family tree was quite optimistic.A family palm tree maybe? 

When it came time to return the books to Professor Quirrell, Harry, Hermione and Ron had produced several feet of parchment of notes, though most of those notes were Hermione’s.

They’d managed to trace Slytherin’s descendants, via the Gaunts, to several magical families.The Galdors, Spilders, and Redharts had all intermarried with the Gaunts in centuries past, and Hermione found reference to members of those three families as recently as 1810 in _Nature’s Nobility_. _Nature’s Nobility_ was the most recent of the three texts, being published in 1832, and left them with other a century unaccounted for between the last records of the Galdors, Spilders, Redharts and Gaunts, and Harry’s birth.

There were other families which claimed to be descendants of Salazar Slytherin, of course, but Hermione had deemed their claims unsupported or unverifiable one after the other.Ron’s notes largely consisted of comments about the author’s, Mucro Byrrus’s, intelligence and the repeated insistence that the man was as good as a Death Eater.

Harry stayed behind after Defense to return the books, and showed Professor Quirrell the list of families they’d come up with. 

“V-v-very good Mr. Evans.”Professor Quirrell said, examining the list.

“Is there any way to search more recent records?Those books you lent me only went up to 1830.”Harry said, repeating what Hermione had told him to ask.Professor Quirrell led Harry to his private office, and transfigured a dictionary into a second chair so that Harry could sit across the desk from him.

“I b-b-belive the M-Ministry keeps c-c-certain r-records.”Professor Quirrell said.Harry nodded.

“We looked into that,” by _we_ he meant Hermione, “but they don’t allow minors to submit requests to the Archives Office.”Hermione had looked ready to set something on fire when she’d learned that.

“That is a p-p-problem.”Professor Quirrell agreed, looking at Harry expectantly.

“Professor?”Harry asked, hesitantly, an idea taking shape, “If I give you the request, would you submit it to the Ministry Archiveal Office?It would only need your signature.”Harry expected the professor to say no, maybe even give him detention, Harry was asking him to lie to the government after all.Instead, Professor Quirrell smiled, fixing Harry with a sharp, searching gaze.

“Of course Mr. Evans.”he said,“I think that is a suitable plan.”

“Thank you, Sir.”Harry couldn’t wait to tell Hermione and Ron, he stood to leave. 

“Mr. Evans,”Professor Quirrell said, and Harry froze, realizing he had not actually been dismissed, “I have found another book which you may find interesting.”Professor Quirrell said, pulling a slim volume from one of his desk drawers.“Return this in one week, and bring the request documents when you come back.”

Harry took the book.There was no title on the black, leather cover. 

“Thank you, Sir, no one’s ever…”Harry didn’t know how to say what he meant.He’d never had any adult who actually helped him like this, but Professor Quirrell even let Harry borrow books, and not because Harry had asked, but because Professor Quirrell thought Harry might find them useful or interesting.  

“Goodnight, Mr. Evans.”Professor Quirrell said.Harry put the book in his bag.

“Goodnight, Sir.”

When Harry reached the Slytherin common room, Draco, Crabbe, Theodore and Pansy were playing exploding snap.

“Out in the Gryffindor sty again?”Draco asked, seeing Harry trying to sneak through the common room unseen.“Must remind you of home.”

“Malfoy, if I hear any more of that I’m taking points.”Terence shouted.Draco glared, but went back to his game.

In the dormitory, Goyle sat on his bed, trying to do homework.

“Evans?”Goyle asked.“How’d you spell _xylem_?”Harry checked his herbology notes and spelled it out.“Thanks.”

Harry closed the curtains around his bed, and pulled out the book Professor Quirrell had given him.There were no markings on the cover.Harry flipped to the first page.

_Wand as a Weapon: A Primer on the Theory and Practice of Curses in Historical and Modern Contexts_ by Basma Zulma, translated by Altair Nightgilt.

Harry grinned, he couldn’t believe Professor Quirrell had remembered Harry’s interest in curses.Maybe this book would be even better than the one Harry had tried to buy back in Diagon Alley, surely Professor Quirrell would know which books on Defense related subjects were best.

Harry, Hermione and Ron spent the next weekend prepared the request documents for the Ministry of Magic’s Archival Office.Hermione had the best handwriting of the three of them, but Ron knew the most about the Ministry by far, seeing as his dad worked there. 

“They won’t be able to give us records of witches and wizards who are still alive, but if you’re asking about anyone who’s dead they should be able to send along copies of the information.”Hermione said, adding a few finishing flourishes to the request.She even left a space for Professor Quirrell to sign.

 

_Dear Sir or Madam,_

_I would like to request access to any archival information available on the magical families Gaunt, Galdor, Spilder, and Redhart.Thank you for your time and effort.Please respond to Professor Quirinius Quirrell at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Sincerely,_ _________________

 

Harry struggled to finish reading _Wand as a Weapon_ in the week he’d been given, he’d fallen far behind on his homework in order trudge through the entire book.Most of _Wand as a Weapon_ had been far too complex for Harry to understand, even Hermione had tried reading a few pages, and said that she wasn’t entirely sure what the author meant, but Hermione had a charms essay to finish and, unlike Harry, would not be putting that off.

Professor Quirrell read over the request, and added one sentence.

 

_If Professor Quirinius Quirrell is unavailable, respond to Harry Evans at 4 Privet Lane, Little Whinging, Surrey._

 

He signed the form, and asked that Harry send it to the Ministry Archival Office with one of the school owls.Harry tried to ask a few questions about _Wand as a Weapon_ , and Professor Quirrell pulled another book from his shelves to lend to Harry for the week.This time, it was _Offensive and Defensive Magic: Grade I_ , a school textbook, but not from Hogwarts.

“It is t-t-translated f-from R-Russian.”Professor Quirrell explained.On the cover was a picture of a banner with a sinister two-headed bird looming over it, and the name _Durmstrang_ written on the banner, alongside something Harry supposed must be in Russian.Harry exchanged books, not quite able to hide his smile.

Harry didn’t particularly enjoy reading, and Professor Quirrell kept giving him very difficult books that he could barely understand at all, but the fact that Professor Quirrell cared to lend Harry books at all left Harry smiling all the way back to his dorm.

He’d never had a teacher who did anything like this, who talked to him outside of class, or who gave him any kind of individualized instruction.Professor Quirrell might be weird, and smelly, but he’d quickly become Harry’s favorite professor.


	16. Halloween

Between classes, weekly meetings with Professor Quirrell, and lots and lots of reading, time passed unbelievably quickly at Hogwarts.Harry found himself standing in the Great Hall one morning, watching Halloween decorations being put up, and it seemed as though school had only just started a couple weeks ago, not months ago.

Harry thought of Hogwarts as home far more than he’d ever thought of Privet Drive that way, even the Slytherin dorms had become quite cozy, though Harry still put up with frequent comments about his ancestry and upbringing.Reading all those genealogy books with Hermione and Ron did give Harry some very good ammunition next time Malfoy made a snide remark about Harry’s blood.

It was only after Professor Slughorn had finished lecturing Harry on fighting, and sent Harry along to the hospital wing to get his cuts and bruises fixed that Harry realized that, perhaps, he’d gone a little too far in implying that Malfoy’s family tree might be a couple branches short.

It had certainly gotten a reaction though, and even with a split lip, Harry found himself grinning a wide, bloody grin as Terence walked him to the hospital wing, looking more than a little disappointed in Harry’s actions.

“I’m not saying he didn’t have it coming,” Terence said, “But Malfoy won’t give up, he’ll keep coming back, and eventually one of you will do something you’ll regret.”Even with two weeks of detention, Harry wasn’t regretting it yet, though Hermione certainly gave him an earful when she found out what he’d done.Ron, on the other hand, looked as though he regretted that he hadn’t been there to see it.

Harry didn’t attend charms with Ron and Hermione, but when he met up with Ron at dinner (Harry estimated that he had no more than ten minutes before Professor McGonagall spotted him), Ron explained that there’d been a bit of a fight.

Well, not a fight exactly, Ron admitted, more like he’d said something a bit mean to Hermione in class, okay, maybe more than a bit mean, and she’d been crying in the girls’ bathroom all afternoon. 

“Should we go check on her?”Harry asked, not sure if that would help, or just make things worse.

“It’s the girls’ bathroom,”Ron said, “and we’re boys.”Harry nodded, they would likely get in trouble if any of the professors saw them sneaking into the girls’ bathroom.

Harry already got in enough trouble just sitting at the wrong table at meals, if Professor McGonagall caught him in the wrong bathroom, Harry expected he’d be in detention until the summer holidays at least.Then again, the idea of Hermione spending the entire feast in the bathroom crying didn’t sit well with him.

“Everyone’s at the feast, no one will see us.”Harry said, as the Great Hall was nearly full, but the feast hadn’t yet started.

“I guess.”Ron didn’t sound particularly happy about it, but agreed.The two of them left the Great Hall, unseen in the crowds of students oohing and aahing at the swarms of bats and massive carved pumpkins which filled the Great Hall.

The halls were empty and unusually silent.Even the ghosts had gone to the feast, though they couldn’t eat or drink anything.When they reached the girls’ bathroom, Ron and Harry stared at one another. 

“Well, open the door.”Ron said, crossing his arms.

“You’re the one who upset her, you open the door.”Harry said.

“You suggested coming up here, you do it.”Ron snapped.

The door opened slightly, and Hermione, her eyes looking a bit puffy, and her face red and blotchy, peeked out at them.

“What are you doing?”she asked, sniffling.Harry pushed Ron ahead of him.

“Ron’s apologizing.”Harry said, and Ron turned to give him a betrayed look.

“Er - yes, I’m very sorry about what I said,”Ron began, “and you should come out because dinner’s started.”Hermione sniffed.

“That’s not a very good apology.”she said. 

“Hey!”Ron shouted, “Well I’m not the one hiding in a stinky bathroom.”Hermione teared up again.

“The bathroom doesn’t stink, that’s just you.”she said, slamming the bathroom door in Ron’s face. 

“Hermione!”Ron shouted.“We don’t - wait, what smells bad?”Ron sniffed the air, and made a disgusted face.Harry did the same.It certainly smelled like a badly cleaned public toilet, but if it wasn’t the bathroom, then what was it? 

The smell became stronger.Harry pinched his nose, beginning to feel a little sick.  

“That’s awful.”Harry said, and Ron shushed him. 

“Listen.”Ron whispered.There was a low grunt, and a sort of thumping noise.

“What is that?”the thumping became louder, and it was, quite clearly, footsteps, very loud, large footsteps.“Did that dog escape?”

“Hermione, you need to get out of there!”Ron said to the bathroom door, trying to keep his voice down.“Hermione!” 

The door opened just a little bit, a single eye and a bit of bushy hair visible in the gap.“What?”Hermione snarled. 

“Something’s coming, we need to leave.”Ron whispered.The footsteps became louder, accompanied by a scraping noise, and the smell became much worse.The single eye visible through the slightly open door widened, Hermione gasped. 

“Get in here, we can lock the door.”Hermione whispered, throwing open the door.Harry and Ron scurried inside, and Hermione cast a locking charm on the door, something she’d only learned reading ahead in the textbooks.

The door locked with a click, though it took Hermione a couple tries to get the charm right.The three of them huddled next to the door,Ron and Harry peered through the gap along the bottom of the door, and Hermione looked through the keyhole.

The footsteps came closer, a shadow could be seen from the bottom of the door, and the smell grew unbearable.The three remained silent, barely breathing.They could hear heavy panting, and low grunting just outside the door.

The creature lingered for a time, and lumbered onwards down the hallway.Harry, Hermione and Ron sat against the door long after the sound of heavy footsteps had faded into silence. 

“What was that?”Harry whispered, as quietly as he could, afraid that whatever-it-was might come back.

 “A troll, I think.”Hermione whispered back, “I saw a little bit through the keyhole, and I read that they smell like sewage.”Ron paled. 

“Do you think it’s gone yet?”Ron asked.  

“Can’t hear anything.”Harry pressed his ear to the gap beneath the door.

“If it’s running loose in the halls, it could be almost anywhere.”Hermione said.“I think we should stay here until a teacher comes and finds us.”

“We’ll be here forever.”Ron moaned.

“I’m sure they’ll make sure everyone’s safe once the troll’s taken care of.”Hermione reasoned, “Like a fire drill, they’ll count all of the students and search for anyone who’s missing.”Ron clearly did not know what a fire drill entailed.Harry and Hermione tried to explained, keeping their voices as quiet as they could.

“So everyone pretends there’s a fire and runs away?Muggles are weird.”Ron had grown up around flame-freezing charms and fire suppression spells, being that afraid of normal, non-magical fire clearly struck him as very strange. 

It couldn’t have been more than an hour, though it felt like a very long time, before they heard footsteps outside the door again.Ron, who had been trying to explain the joys of Quidditch to Harry and Hermione, fell silent.All three of them listened closely, the footsteps were fast, and they could hear the click-click of shoes against the stone floors.Surely, it was not the troll again.

Hermione unlocked the door with a click, and the footsteps stopped.She eased open the door, and sighed with relief.

“Professor!”Hermione said, opening the door wider, allowing Harry and Ron to see Professor Quirrell standing in the hallway, looking like he’d been caught in the act of doing something very bad, not merely walking down the hallway.“There’s a troll in the castle.”Hermione informed him. 

“Y-y-yes.The t-t-troll has been t-t-taken care of.”Professor Quirrell said, “You should n-n-not be h-here.Why are y-y-you n-not in y-your d-dorimitories?”He asked, his tone growing sharper. 

“We were just-“Ron began,

“Please, Professor Quirrell, Ron and Harry were looking for me.”Hermione said.“I wanted to see the troll, I’d read all about them.”Hermione lied smoothly, not mentioning that she’d spent most of the day crying in the bathroom.  

“Is this t-t-t-true Mr. Evans?”Professor Quirrell asked, fixing Harry with an intent stare.Harry fought down the urge to fidget.

“Yes, Sir.”Harry said.Ron nodded beside him.Professor Quirrell considered the three of them.

“F-five p-points from G-Gryffindor and S-Slytherin.”Professor Quirrell said.All three relaxed slightly, having feared far worse than just five points from each house.“I w-w-will escort y-y-you to y-your d-dormitories.”Professor Quirrell added, “No m-m-more w-wandering.”

Professor Quirrell kept a close eye on them all the way up to the Gryffindor dormitories, where Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione.From there, Harry and Professor Quirrell made their way to Slytherin’s dungeons.The school was strangely silent for so early in the evening, they didn’t pass a single person, ghostly or living, in their walk. 

“Your friend Ms. Granger is a much better liar than you are.”Professor Quirrell commented as they climbed down a flight of stairs.Harry almost tripped and cracked his head on the steps.

“What, Sir?”Harry said, falling back on an old tactic he’d learned while living with the Dursleys, playing dumb.Professor Quirrell did not stop walking, nor did he even turn to look at Harry.

“Lying Mr. Evans, you are not very skilled in that subject.”Professor Quirrell continued, “Had you tried to fool your other professors in that way, the consequences would be quite severe I imagine.”

“I didn’t-“

“Mr. Evans,”Professor Quirrell stopped suddenly, Harry almost walked into him from behind.The professor’s voice was soft, but Harry felt as though the professor had spoken directly into his ear.“Do not lie to me.”Harry shivered, guilt rising in his throat.

“Sorry, Sir.We were embarrassed.”Harry said, 

“Better Mr. Evans.”Professor Quirrel started walking again.

“Ron and Hermione had a stupid fight, and we hadn’t seen her at dinner, so Ron and I went to check on her.We didn’t know there was a troll or anything like that.”Harry explained, feeling as though he were betraying his friends by telling the professor this.“Am I in trouble?”Harry asked.

“I do not punish students for telling the truth.”Professor Quirrell said.

Professor Quirrell made no further comment.They continued to the Slytherin dormitories in silence.

“Shall I save another book for you later this week?”Professor Quirrell asked, still facing away from Harry. 

“Please, Sir.”Harry said, and then to the wall that hid the entrance to the Slytherin common room he said, “ _Pumpkin juice.”_

Harry stepped into the passageway to the common room, he could hear students laughing, and smell roasted meat of some kind.

“Good night, Professor.”Harry glanced back, Professor Quirrell turned around, and for a moment Harry had a clear view of the professor’s face, before the wall shimmered back into existence between them.

Harry shivered, it must have been a trick of the light, but for a moment, the professor’s facehad looked as though it were frozen in a rictus of terror.Harry rushed to the common room, trying to shake the image away.


	17. Christmas Time Is Almost Here

Ron, whose excitement for Quidditch was more than enough to make up for Hermione and Harry’s general confusion about the entire sport, dragged his friends to the first Quidditch match of the season - Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

The weather had grown cold as they moved into November, and there sat Harry, bundled up in his winter cloak and Slytherin scarf, squished in among the cheering Gryffindors.

Harry felt somewhat like those muggle photographers who spent months and months living in the wilderness somewhere near the Arctic so that they could become accepted among the packs of wolves that lived there, and get close enough to take fantastic photographs of the wolves.

Harry had to read about it in school a couple years ago, and the photographs had been neat.Harry vaguely recalled that one of those muggles ended up losing a hand, or perhaps a foot, and he hoped the analogy did not stretch quite that far, though with the way many of the Gryffindors began to froth at the mouth when the match started, Harry could not be sure of anything.

Peering across the field at the Slytherin stands, Harry didn’t think his House was any less fanatic, cheering whenever Flint managed to knock someone off their broom, though Madam Hooch, who refereed this match, always fouled them when Flint did that.  

“There’s the snitch.”Harry whispered, having caught sight of it for the third time in the last ten minutes.

“I’m never letting you play Quidditch.”Ron muttered, 

“I think Harry would be quite good.”Hermione said, squinting in an effort to see the snitch where Harry had pointed it out.The snitch was long gone, Harry could see the glint of light off its wings somewhere further down the field. 

“That’s the problem, Slytherin doesn’t need the help.”Ron said, and then rocketed to his feet, roaring at the top of his lungs as Gryffindor scored, and the rest of the Gryffindor stands joined in, with a good many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws clapping or shouting as well.

For a moment, Harry thought he might have gone deaf with the noise of it, but the shouting died down, and Harry’s ears only rung for a cople minutes.

“There’s the snitch, above Pucey.”Harry whispered, Ron leaned forward, watching the snitch fly right above Pucey’s ear, and then vanish with a glitter of sunlight.

Terence, Slytherin’s seeker, suddenly dove toward the ground, nearly crashing into the ground before pulling up.He held up one hand, and in it, the snitch struggled to escape.The Slytherin stands erupted into cheering and screaming, Harry stood.

“Go Terence!”Harry shouted, before Ron managed to pull him back into his seats.Gryffindors all around were glaring in his direction.

“Let’s get out of here.”Ron suggested, some of the older students looked ready to start throwing curses, the Gryffindor seeker hadn’t even begun to dive when Slytherin caught the snitch.Harry, Hermione and Ron trekked back to the castle, leaving the game before it had officially ended, the results were clear anyhow.

“Hey, is that Quirrell?”Ron asked, pointing to a small dark shape quickly moving across the grounds, before vanishing into the Forbidden Forest.

“Think so.”Harry agreed, the turban was particularly unmistakable.“I wonder what he’s doing.”Everything Harry had heard about the Forbidden Forest made it sound like a rather dangerous place to go for an afternoon stroll, but Professor Quirrell did teach defense against the dark arts, so surely he could protect himself.

Come mid-December, the grounds were blanketed in snow, and mail delivery became slower and slower as owls struggled to fly through the cold and stormy weather.

Hogwarts, being an old and drafty castle, lacked central heating.The Great Hall was kept warm by massive fires roaring in the fireplaces on each wall, and the classrooms were kept relative warm by fires or heating spells. 

The dungeons though, became almost unbearably cold.Professor Slughorn, shivering in his fur lined winter cloak, explained that the potions classroom could not be heated by magic because of the instability of certain ingredients, and large open fires were too risky with volatile potions being brewed, leaving the professor and students alike to bundle up and sit as close to their brewing cauldrons as they could in an effort to remain somewhat warm.

The Slytherin common room and dormitories, while somewhat warmer than the potions classroom due to the fireplace that was kept lit at all hours, was far colder than anyone found comfortable (except for Millicent who went about in her summer robes and laughed at the rest of them).

According to Gemma, who Harry complained to when he woke up one morning to find that the water in the toilet had frozen over, the Slytherin dorms were built underneath the Black Lake, which kept the dorms cool in the summer, but did nothing to keep them warm in the winter, once the lake had frozen over. 

As Gemma explained, there used to be warming spells on the Slytherin dorms, as old as Hogwarts itself, but they’d worn off over the centuries and no one had figured out how to recast them without accidentally boiling off the lake above.

Gemma said something about heating spells being less effective underwater, she said it had to do with the magical affinities between spells and locations, she even offered to show Harry the arithmancy tables which explained it.Harry politely refused, knowing nothing about arithmancy, and not wanting to be subjected to the hour long lectures on the subject that Gemma was notorious for.He’d had quite enough of math in primary school, and had no intention of getting trapped in one of Gemma’s impromptu math lessons.

Harry took to wearing several layers of muggle clothes underneath his robes, and wearing his winter cloak while studying in the Slytherin common rooms.Judging by the strange looks Hermione and Ron gave him when he complained of frozen toilets and stolen blankets, Slytherin’s winter situation was unique, and enduring the frigid dormitories something of a House tradition.

Harry made no plans to leave Hogwarts for the holidays, and he’d assumed that everyone else would be staying too.Growing up with the Dursleys, Harry was certainly aware of the existence of Christmas, the Dursleys celebrated the holiday with large dinners and by giving Dudley a pile of presents, but Harry had never participated in those celebrations, and the holiday meant very little to him. 

When Professor Slughorn came around the dormitory with a list for students to sign if they were staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, Harry had the sinking realization that not everyone cared as little for Christmas as he did, and that most students had families to go home to, entire lives outside of school.

As Draco put it during the final potions class before students left for the holidays, “I feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.”Draco’s tone however, was anything but sorry.Despite Draco’s comments, Harry couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be for Christmas than Hogwarts, it certainly beat going back to Privet Drive.

While Hermione would be going home, Ron and his brothers would be staying at Hogwarts while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley visited Charlie in Romania.Apparently Ron’s parents hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Charlie since he moved to Romania over a year ago, but the trip would be expensive, and they couldn’t afford to bring all of their children with them.Ron seemed to be in relatively good spirits about it, but Harry suspected that the Weasley boys at Hogwarts were a little disappointed to be on their own for the holidays.

On the day before classes got out for the holidays, Harry dropped by Professor Quirrell’s office to trade in the book the professor had lent him the previous week.The last book had been a book about the healing properties of different parts of magical animals, interesting, but a bit gruesome in parts.Harry skimmed some of the ickier bits, he didn’t really want to know what healing potions could be made from a vampire’s liver or a house elf’s tongue.

“I d-d-do n-not have a b-b-book f-for you.”Professor Quirrell said, remaining seated at his desk while Harry returned the book.

“Oh.”Harry tried not to let his disappointment show.Professor Quirrell finished writing with a flourish of his quill.

“B-but the l-library had a n-n-number of f-f-fascinating t-texts.”Professor Quirrell held out the parchments he’d been writing on.Harry took them, and as he read, his disappointment evaporated away.One parchment had a list of books, ten in total.The second parchment was a note to Madam Pince, informing her that Harry Evans had permission to access certain texts in the Restricted Section, signed by Professor Quirrell.“The l-l-last three b-b-books on the l-list w-w-will require that n-note to access.”

“Thank you, Sir.”Harry said, giving Professor Quirrell a grateful smile.

“T-t-take n-notes Mr. Evans, I w-w-would l-like to know y-y-your thoughts.”

“This is a lot of books Professor, I’m not sure I’ll be able to finish them all before classes start.”Harry could only manage to read each of the books assigned by Professor Quirrell each week by staying up very late, neglecting homework in other classes, and often skipping chapters that he didn’t understand.

“T-t-take y-your t-time Mr. Evans.C-come and s-see me n-n-next w-week to inform m-m-me of your p-progress.”Professor Quirrell said.

“You’re staying in the castle for the holidays, Sir?”Harry asked, having assumed his professor would go elsewhere. 

“Y-yes.”


	18. Christmas in Slytherin

Harry, Ron and Hermione spent much of their last afternoon together searching the library for the books on Professor Quirrell’s list, and deciding which ones Harry ought to start with.Hermione and Ron had enough work of their own, and largely left Harry to do the readings Professor Quirrell set to him.

Unlike Harry, both of them found the defense professor unapproachable, and more than a little unpleasant to be around, especially considering the stench that lingered around the professor, and which only grew worse as the months stretched on.

Ron thought Harry was mad for doing so much reading that wasn’t even for a class, and while Hermione didn’t disapprove of reading in itself, she did disapprove of Harry neglecting his other classes in favor of finishing extracurricular reading.

Classes ended, and most of the students packed their things and boarded the train to go home, leaving hallways empty and silent, and the castle feeling much too large for what few people remained.Harry found himself the only boy left in the first year Slytherin boys’ dormitory, and Millicent the only girl left in the first year Slytherin dormitory on the girls’ side. 

When Harry asked why she’d stayed in the castle over the holidays, Millicent said that her father was getting married (she pulled a disgusted face at that), and her mother was traveling in Indonesia for mycological research, so she’d decided to stay at school for the holidays.

When Harry asked what sort of magic mycology was, Millicent laughed in his face for several minutes, and went back to her dormitory without answering his question. 

Once the winter holidays started, Ron and Harry both found that they had very little to do.They spent a bit of time in the library, but without Hermione, they did not get very far in reading the books Professor Quirrell had recommended.

“We could to the Gryffindor common room, it’s almost empty in there.”Ron suggested.They spent the better part of an afternoon roasting sausages, bread, and marshmallows they’d smuggled out of the dining hall on forks over the fire in the Gryffindor common room, and lounging on the massive armchairs scattered about the common room.

The Gryffindor common room was not quite empty, but with the majority of the remaining Gryffindors being Weasleys, no one dared fetch McGonagall to have Harry kicked out.

It wasn’t until Ron brought out a battered old chess set one morning, hoping to teach Harry the rules of the game, that Harry got an idea.

“You’ve never seen the Slytherin common room.”Harry said, a smile spreading across his face, “There’s even less Slytherins left than Gryffindors, it’ll be empty down there.”

“I don’t want to go to Slytherin’s dungeons.”Ron groaned, but Harry had already decided this was a brilliant idea, Harry had been in the Gryffindor common room several times, but Ron hadn’t been in the Slytherin common room yet, and it seemed unlikely they’d have another opportunity to sneak Ron into the dungeons without getting in trouble once the holidays were over. 

By the time they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Ron was shivering, and loudly complaining about the cold.

“Twenty-Eight.”Harry said, and the wall vanished, revealing the entrance to the common room.

“That’s the password, seriously?”Ron asked.

“I’m guessing it’s some pureblood superiority thing?Gemma and Terence switch off who sets the password every two weeks, it was Gemma’s turn last week.”Harry had gotten the gist after the password had been set to _Potentia et Stirps,_ which led Harry to a Latin dictionary, and the dawning suspicion that witches and wizards had little to no understanding of grammar, English or otherwise.

Terence had set the password to _Ulisiphile_ , which Terence admitted ought to mean “mud lover” in the dog-Greek Terence was able to patch together from the lessons he’d taken back in his Muggle school.

“It’s Slytherin, so it’s probably the list,”Ron explained as Harry led the way into the Slytherin common room, Harry tried not to be insulted by Ron’s assumptions about Slytherin, they weren’t wholly off the mark, “There’s twenty-eight families that are supposed to be the purest pure-bloods in Britain or something like that, my family’s on the list, no idea why.” 

Ron stepped into the common room, and looked around at the eerie green lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and the faint blueish light coming in through the windows, “Wicked.”Ron said, then after a moment of gazing around, he added, “Bit stuffy though.” 

The high backed leather seats, and mixture of tapestries and paintings on the walls, paired with the almost total lack of personal belongings or decorations left in the common area by students certainly did give it the atmosphere of some kind of medieval themed office lobby rather than a place where children might do homework or chat with their friends.

Someone had left a radio on, faint music filled the common room.A small, and rather tattered looking Christmas tree covered in silver tinsel and candles sat in one corner, looking as though it had survived several arson attempts, and been thrown down at least a couple flights of stairs. 

“Evans?”Harry and Ron spun around, Harry had thought the common room empty.Millicent sat at a small table in the corner of the room, a place that couldn’t be seen from the door.She had a deck of cards spread out on the table in front of her, and a radio perched on the edge of the table.

Harry wasn’t quite sure what game she was playing, but it appeared to be similar to solitaire.“You brought one of your Gryffindors.”Millicent noted, looking at Ron as though he were a particularly nasty bug of some kind.“I do hope it’s housebroken.”

Ron snarled, his facing going red.It was only Harry’s hand on Ron’s arm which kept him from marching over to Millicent’s table and starting a fight.Millicent looked immensely satisfied with Ron’s reaction, and Harry glared at her, though he truly didn’t know what else he’d expected of her.He’d really hoped the common room would be empty. 

“We’re going to play chess.”Harry said, “Is Flint around?”Flint being one of the few upper years who’d stayed for the holidays.Millicent shrugged, turning over a card.

“I think he’s in Hogsmede visiting his girlfriend today.”Millicent said.

Flint was a sixth year, but he’d repeated a year, and had somehow started dating a girl a year older than him who’d graduated the previous year, Vega Rowle. Flint couldn't go ten minutes without talking about her, whether to tell anyone who'd listen how wonderful she was, or to complain about how vain and expensive his girlfriend was.  

It never seemed to occur to Flint that no one else actually wanted to hear about his girlfriend, much less several times per day.

“Are there going to be any problems between us?”Harry asked, Millicent seemed the sort to tell him the truth, rather than going behind his back to complain to a professor.For a Slytherin, Millicent was among the more blunt sort.Millicent eyed him and Ron for a moment.

“Whatever.As long as you keep your Gryffindor on a short leash, and keep the noise down, we’ll be fine.”Millicent said, turning back to her card game, seemingly flipping cards at random.

“Right.”Harry said.Ron still looked quite angry.“C’mon Ron, we’ve got chess over here.”

Harry had gotten the idea to bring Ron to the Slytherin common room because of the chess sets.  He’d seen Ron’s chess set, and been reminded of the rather nice looking silver chess set in the Slytherin common room.

Millicent turned up the radio, the sounds of the Boggart Boys singing (screaming really) about teenage rebellion and the unavoidable certainty of death filled the common room.

Ron sat down on the white side of the chess board, giving Harry the black side.Ron still looked a little disgruntled, and the chess pieces, which had put up with generations of Slytherins, were not helping by criticizing Ron’s tactics as too blunt, overly predictable, and accusing him of outright idiocy when he went straight for Harry’s queen.

Ron still won of course, but he became steadily more frustrated as the game went on.By the time Harry and Ron made it to their third game, Ron had taken a rather dictatorial attitude toward his chess pieces, putting any that criticized him onto the front lines, while allowing those who favored him to be protected.

Ron’s chess pieces quickly got the idea, and went very silent, acting as little more than Muggle chess pieces, though if Harry looked closely enough he could see the looks of fear on the tiny silver faces of white chess pieces. 

Harry tried to follow the advice his pieces gave, hoping that it might help, but it seemed his chess pieces didn’t know how to strategize much better than Harry, and were more interested in prolonging their own time in the game than winning. 

“Murderer!”one of Harry’s pawns accused when Harry sacrificed another pawn.“Knave!”

“He’s not dead for long, I’ll put him back on the board once the game is done.”Harry told the pawn.

“You leasing-monger, liar, we’ll all be dead soon enough under your orders.”the pawn continued, then turning to another pawn, “He’s killed us twice, he’ll kill us this time too.”the other pawn glanced between the mad pawn and Harry in fear.

Harry tried to continue his game, ignoring the insults the mad pawn slung at him, though they were quite varied, centuries of listening to frustrated students no doubt provided much fodder.

“You great yaldson!”“Warlowe!”“Cowardly nithling!” The rebellious pawn shouted. 

Ron won the game handily, but not before Harry’s mad pawn had attempted to turn the other black pawns against Harry, and, when that failed as the black bishop threatened eternal damnation should they go against “our Lord”, the pawn tried to defect to the white side of the board and was promptly brought before the king and executed.

Ron and Harry went to dinner after that game, Harry deciding that enough was enough, and Ron complaining that the Slytherin chess set probably had some kind of Dark magic on it.

On Christmas eve, long after curfew had passed, the Slytherins staying at Hogwarts over the winter holidays were awake.There were only six of them, seven if Flint hadn’t snuck out to stay the night in Hogsmede with Vega.Other than Harry and Millicent, it was only Cassius Warrington, a forth year; the Carrow sisters, third years; and Byron Miller, a sixth year. 

The six of them gathered in the common area, Warrington had somehow got ahold of a bottle of cheap firewhiskey, which he and Miller drank most of, Millicent and one of the Carrows convinced the house elves to bring platters of food, and the other Carrow transfigured some metal spears and set to work trying to make toast over the fireplace.

Harry couldn’t tell the Carrow sisters apart, and he doubted anyone else could either, not that either Carrow seemed to care particularly much if anyone got them mixed up.The Carrows didn’t care much about what anyone else thought at all.  Harry wondered if anyone had ever introduced the Carrow sisters to the Weasley twins, he doubted they'd get along though.

Warrington and Miller got drunk far too early, the Carrows started telling “Christmas stories” that were better suited to Halloween night, the sisters had a bloodthirsty streak a mile wide and a flare for all the gruesome details.

Millicent and Harry would of course deny that they’d been huddled next to each other on one of the common room couches, under a pile of blankets, listening in abject fear to the stories the Carrows told, while Warrington sobbed on the floor and Miller patted his back sympathetically, until Warrington eventually fell asleep, the firewhisky bottle clutched in hand.

The Bloody Baron appeared in the common room around two in the morning and stared at all of them in silence dripping translucent blood, until they scrambled off to bed, leaving Warrington sprawled out on the floor as no one dared wake him. 

Harry stayed up a little longer.Being the only one in the first year dormitories, there was no one to stop him from jumping from bed to bed like a frog until he exhausted himself and finally fell asleep.He’d wanted to do that for months, and now that the opportunity had presented itself.  How could he resist?


	19. Family

Harry woke up late on Christmas morning, in no hurry to go anywhere.He took a long shower, dressed, and wandered out into the common room.

Warrington was sleeping on the floor; someone had kindly thrown a blanket over him so he didn’t freeze, but less-kindly hexed him with an ink mustache and the word _Dunce_ on his forehead in black ink.

Harry tiptoed past Warrington, and briefly glanced at the presents beneath the Christmas tree.There were a couple boxes and bags, and one slim package which was addressed to Harry, wrapped in Muggle newsprint.Harry carefully opened his present, surprised to have received anything at all.

A box of nice muggle chocolates from Hermione, a variety Harry had once mentioned that his Aunt and Uncle often ate, but that he’d never tried for himself.Harry regretted that he hadn’t thought to give Hermione anything.He hadn’t realized that she would buy him a gift, he didn’t know that was something friends did for one another. 

“Evans,”Flint staggered into the common room, looking hungover and covered in dirt, “There’s some Weasley outside looking for you.”With that, Flint stomped to the sixth year dorms.Evidently his night with Vega hadn’t gone as well as planned.

Harry ran out of the common room, clutching the box of chocolates to his chest.Ron was waiting outside, pacing back and forth, looking rather nervous, and wearing a red knit sweater.

“Harry,”Ron shoved a large, lumpy package into Harry’s arms, “I told my mum you didn’t expect any presents,” Ron’s cheeks and neck began to redden in embarrassment, “she’s made you a Weasley sweater.”he said, as though that were some kind of punishment.

Harry ripped open the package, and found the sweater, hand-knitted from dark green yarn, and a box of homemade fudge.

“She didn’t know where to send it to, so she sent it to me to give to you.”Ron explained.Harry quickly donned the sweater.It was far too large, the sleeves covered his hands entirely, and a big white H adorned the front.“She makes us a sweater every year,”Ron complained, “Mine is always maroon.” he waved a hand at his own sweater.

“Fantastic!”Harry had his arms full with the two large boxes of candies, and the sweater was quite a bit more comfortable that wearing his winter cloak whenever he had to sit in the common room.“I got presents!”Harry still found the entire experience shocking to say the least.

“You’ve got to come up to the tower, it’s not right to spend Christmas in the dungeons.”Ron said, grabbing Harry by the arm.Harry had absolutely no objections, he certainly didn’t want to be sitting in the Slytherin common room when Warrington woke up, but sitting alone in his dormitory all morning sounded dreadful. 

They bounded off to Gryffindor tower, Harry excited enough to jump up the stairs two or three at a time, while Ron, being much taller, took absurdly large steps, raising his knees up above his belly.By the time they arrived at the Fat Lady’s painting, both of them were laughing so much that it took Ron a couple tries to say the password.

A wave of warm air came from within the common room as the portrait opened, fires were blazing in the fireplaces, and the windows dripped with condensation.

“Merry Christmas!”Fred and George were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, several boxes and bits of colorful paper scattered around them.Both wore blue sweaters with a large F and G on them.

“Hey, Harry’s sweater is better than ours.”Fred, or at least, the twin wearing the sweater with the letter F on it said.“She makes more of an effort if you’re not family.”  Fred pretended to pout for a moment, before giving Harry a wild grin.

George nearly tackled Ron, preventing Ron from getting his sweater up over his head.Ron had been halfway through taking his sweater off.“Ron, what are you doing?”George said, untangling himself from Ron, as both had gone sprawling onto the common room floor.“Come on, keep it on, they’re lovely and warm.”

Ron got to his feet and pulled his sweater back on, looking unhappy about being tackled, “I hate maroon.”Ron looked about, “What about Percy?” 

Percy had been silently walking across the room, toward the Fat Lady’s painting, clearly trying not to be noticed.He held his own sweater tucked under one arm.The twins jumped over the back of the couch, running over to Percy.George grabbed Percy’s sweater out of his hands.

“P for prefect!”George shouted, “Come on Percy, put it on.Look, even Harry’s wearing his.”

Percy and the twins fought for a moment, Percy valiantly attempting to shoo the twins off, but the twins, being almost the same size as Percy, and much quicker, pulled the sweater over Percy’s head, leaving his glasses hanging off one ear and his hair stuck up in all directions.Percy’s arms hadn’t made it through the sleeves, and were instead pinned to his sides underneath the sweater.

The twins didn’t give Percy the chance to escape, instead grabbing the sweater’s empty sleeves and dragging Percy over to a couch. 

“Christmas is a time for family.”Fred said in a solemn tone, sitting next to Percy. 

“You do love your family don’t you Percy?”George said in a similar tone, sitting on Percy’s other side, leaving no space in between them.Percy sighed, and nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the entire ordeal. 

Harry even managed to sit at the Gryffindor table for the Christmas dinner without Professor McGonagall swooping down to correct him.It seemed the professors had broken out the alcohol before dinner, and several were already grinning, and a bit red faced, when they arrived for the feast of turkey, potatoes, gravy and cranberry sauce.

Despite the small number of students, less than a dozen at each House table, the dinner had been laid out as though the tables would be full, and a huge number of wizarding crackers were left scattered across the entire length of each table.

While Harry’s Christmas gifts had been fantastic, and nothing would beat his first real presents, he left the Christmas dinner laden with almost a dozen different bits and knick-knacks that had come out of the crackers, including his own chess set, and a pocket full of live, white mice that Harry didn’t know what to do with. 

Harry spent the afternoon and evening with the Weasleys, and it wasn’t until everyone else had fallen asleep, full of turkey sandwiches and Christmas cake, that Harry roused himself and left to find his way back to his proper dormitory, gifts in hand.

The hallways were dark and cold, Harry felt that he might be the only being awake and stirring in the entire castle.Even the torches had been doused, leaving Harry to navigate by the moonlight which streamed in from the windows.Outside, the snow had taken on a silvery glow, and everything seemed silent and still.

Harry took a wrong turn somewhere.In darker, interior hallways it had become difficult to see much of anything at all, and Harry thought he’d turned at the right place, but soon enough found himself in a dead end corridor that he was sure should have led elsewhere.There was a suit of armor at the end of the hallway, but the only suits of armor Harry knew of in the castle were at least a few floors below where he thought he was.  In short, Harry was very lost.

Harry froze, hearing quiet footsteps tapping on the stone floors. 

“Somebody’s been wandering around at night.”Filch said, Harry heard a choked meow, surely belonging to Mrs. Norris.Harry felt along the walls, trying to find some kind of door, or better yet a secret passageway.If he tried to run back down the hallway, surely Filch would catch him.

Harry felt a door, and turned the knob.It swung open silently, and Harry plunged into the dark room beyond, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

It looked like an unused classroom, Harry leaned against the door, listening for any sign of Filch.After several minutes, he heard nothing, and relaxed slightly.Narrow windows near the ceiling let slanted beams of moonlight into the room.Harry could barely make out the shapes of desks and chairs pushed against the walls, and near the back of the room stood some great shadowy shape. 

Harry set his gifts down for the moment, and cautiously walked toward the back of the room.He saw a flash of movement in the moonlight, and froze for several seconds before realizing what it was.

A mirror, standing almost twice Harry’s height and wider than his outstretched arms, with a magnificent frame.No longer fearing that he’d be discovered, Harry took out his wand and cast a light charm.

The mirror’s frame glittered with golden filigree, and an inscription had been carved along the curved top.

 

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

 

Harry silently mouthed the words, but they meant nothing to him.Harry stepped closer, holding his wand out ahead of him.His reflection came into sight, and for a moment Harry gazed at his double, standing just as he was standing.

His reflection’s look of curiosity and fear turned into a smile, and his reflection gave him a cheeky wink.Figures came into view standing behind his reflection.Harry spun around, heart beating frantically in his ears, but found the room as empty as he’d thought, with only the desks and chairs for company.

Harry turned back to the mirror, where his reflection stood, accompanied by a whole crowd of people who Harry couldn’t quite make out in the dim light.A man and a woman stood at his reflection’s sides, hands on his shoulders.Harry shivered, almost feeling the touch himself, but again, when he looked around, he was completely alone.

Harry stepped closer to the mirror’s surface, looking up at the adults who stood alongside his reflection, almost nose-to-nose with the glass surface.

The man who stood at his reflection’s side had wild, dark hair, dark eyes behind round glasses, and an easy smile.The woman who stood at his reflection’s other side had red hair tied in a long braid, green eyes, and looked at the man, and Harry’s reflection, with a strange expression that made Harry’s chest twinge.

The man and woman both wore Muggles clothes, while Harry wore his school robes, and the sweater that Ron’s mum had made him.The woman had a little bit of Aunt Petunia in her, the nose was the same, and the shape of her eyes.The man, with that hair, and those glasses, Harry had looked at himself in the mirror enough times to realize that this man bore no small resemblance to him.

“Mum?”Harry whispered, placing a hand against the glass.“Dad?”his reflection copied his movement, and smiled, looking perfectly at peace.Harry examined the crowd that stood behind his reflection, and saw wild hair, flashes of green eyes, his nose on one, his ears on another, one even had Harry’s smile.

These were his family, Harry felt certain that these were his family.Harry stared at the mirror for a very long time, Christmas forgotten, and a new sort of hunger gnawing at the inside his chest.

Realizing with a start that it would be dawn soon, Harry left the mirror, though it pained him to do so.He picked up his gifts and, once he’d peeked outside to make sure Filch wasn’t waiting for him, tiptoed all the way back to the Slytherin dormitory, clutching his Christmas gifts in hand. 

Harry waited outside the Gryffindor common room the next morning, until Percy came outside, and Harry leapt to his feet, asking Percy to go inside and get Ron for him.Percy sighed, but went back through the Fat Lady’s painting, and came back out a few minutes later with Ron, who looked like he’d just been dragged out of bed, still wearing pajamas and everything.

“I’ve got to show you this mirror I found.”Harry said. 

“A mirror?”Ron asked sleepily, while Harry pulled him down the hallway.Percy watched the two of them go in confusion.

“It’s a magic mirror,”Harry explained, “I saw my mum and dad standing behind me, in the reflection.You’ve got to see it.”

They came to the room where Harry had found the mirror the night before, and the door opened silently, still unlocked.Harry threw open the door and cast a light charm, even in the daylight, the room was quite dimly lit, lacking torches or candles. 

“Here it is.”Harry said, stepping inside, Ron followed a couple steps behind him.“Oh.”The desks remained where they’d been the night before, pushed against the walls, but the center of the room was empty.The mirror was gone, and only a few faint marks and footprints in the dust on the floor remained.

“Where’s this mirror?”Ron asked, casting his own light charm.Harry lowered his wand, staring at the empty spot where the mirror had been. 

“It’s gone.”Harry whispered, his breathing coming faster.“Someone must have moved it.”Harry’s disappointment quickly tuned into frustration, he kicked the nearest chair, succeeding only in toppling the chair and stubbing his toes. 

“Hey!”Ron hopped out of the chair’s way.Harry stood a moment, fists clenched, trying not to cry.“It’s just a mirror Harry.” 

“I saw my parents.”Harry choked out.“I _saw_ them.”

“Hey, mate, calm down.”Ron said, trying to be reassuring.“How’d do you even know they were your parents, you said you’d never seen them before?” 

“I could just tell.”Harry snapped, “I know it was my mum and dad.”Ron stepped back, looking a little shocked at Harry’s tone. 

“I think,”Ron said in a slow, deliberate tone, “That the mirror might have been cursed.My dad said that sometimes cursed objects can make people feel and think things that aren’t really their feelings or thoughts.”Ron explained.“You saw your parents, but how do you know that’s what they really looked like?”Harry made a frustrated noise, he _knew_ it was his mum and dad, he couldn’t explain it, he just knew.

“Let’s forget it and go downstairs, I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”Ron said.Harry wasn’t hungry.Harry remained quiet and listless for the rest of the day, that horrible longing to see the mirror again still gnawing at him.

He checked on the room where the mirror had been one last time while walking back to the Slytherin dormitories in the evening, but the mirror was still missing.Harry woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, the image of his parents, and the sound of a woman screaming over and over again in his head.


	20. The Purpose of Dark Lords

Harry spent much of the remainder of the holidays reading in the library, or playing (and losing) games of chess against Ron.The nightmares continued.

Harry read through a couple of the books Professor Quirrell had recommended, the library was usually empty except for him, and he often found himself reading late into the night and having the sneak back to his dormitory after curfew. 

One book in particular caught his interest, though the writing was too complicated and academic for Harry to understand much of it.It was among the few books that Professor Quirrell had given Harry a pass to get into the restricted section for, and Harry chose it because it looked like the shortest of the books he had left to read.

_Lords and Knights: Aristocracy and Dark Magic, a Question of Titles, Hierarchy, and the Nature of Evil_ by Cecelia Fextley.

It sounded dreadfully boring, but Harry didn’t really want to go lose to Ron at chess anymore that day, and the weather outside was awful, making snowball fights and snow-fort building impossible.

Harry took the book, and found an armchair in a corner of the library, next to a large window looking down at the icy lake. 

The first few chapters rivaled the worst of Binns’s lectures in terms of being mind numbingly dull, Harry skimmed over discussions of Muggle aristocratic titles, and the involvement of witches and wizards in Muggle politics in medieval times.

He flipped a little further in the book, hoping it got more interesting at some point.Surely Professor Quirrell didn’t expect him to actually understand any of this.

The chapter of a chapter near the very end of the book caught Harry’s eye, _A Theory of Dark Lords_.Harry sat up a little straighter, there was a word he knew.

Harry had heard that You-Know-Who was a Dark Lord, and he thought that was just another title, because You-Know-Who was so evil and all that, but _Lords and Knights_ described the history of Dark Lords going back centuries.

The author’s writing style was boring, and difficult to follow, Harry picked up bits and pieces of what the author tried to explain, but the bits about “social hierarchy” went completely over his head.

What Harry understood was that You-Know-Who wasn’t the first Dark Lord, in fact, there’d been Dark Lords sprouting up in Europe for centuries.While Muggles might think of Lords and Knights as gallant or archaic, among witches and wizards such titles had far more to do with Dark magic than political power.

The book listed a handful of Dark Lords, giving a short history of each, and even mentioned You-Know-Who’s name, something Harry had asked Ron and others about, but hadn’t found anyone willing to tell him.

_Voldemort_.

A completely ridiculous name, Harry snorted once he read it.It sounded a bit familiar though, like something from one of Dudley’s video games maybe?

There was very little information about Voldemort, mostly just estimated numbers of deaths, and a bit about his support of pureblood supremacy and his followers being called Knights of Walpurgis before they became the Death Eaters.

The other Dark Lords were even more interesting in Harry’s opinion, because he already knew pureblood bigots existed, so Voldemort’s cause was hardly surprising.  Some of the other Dark Lords were truly bizarre, and Harry hadn’t heard of any of them in Binns’s class.

There was Grindelwald, who thought witches and wizards should rule Muggles as “philosopher-kings”, though Harry didn’t quite understand what that meant.

Harry nearly dropped his book in surprise when he read that Headmaster Dumbledore had been the one to defeat Grindelwald, his own headmaster had defeated a Dark Lord and he had no idea about it. 

Then there’d been Iseut the Gold Eater in the sixteenth century, who wanted to kill as many powerful Muggle and magical families as possible in order to create a utopia, but whose assassinations of Muggle royalty led to the movement to completely separate the Muggle and magical communities.

And Verena Bonetaker in the thirteenth century who wanted to destroy death itself, but whose experiments turned entire villages into undead monsters.

There was Stithulf the Bloody, in the eleventh century, who thought that werewolves were the most perfect form of humanity, and tried to infect as many people as possible.

There was Emeric the Evil back in the 800s, he was called a Dark Lord, but according to the book he’d really been more of a serial killer, and very, very good at what he did. 

Harry thought Emeric the Evil sounded the scariest of all of them, but none sounded particularly pleasant.If Binns taught things like this, everyone would be paying attention in history class.  Harry hadn’t the slightest clue magical history could be so interesting, and so bloody.

The rest of the book was far less interesting after that, but Harry trudged through it, hoping to learn more about the interesting bits of history. 

Instead, the book concluded on a long, meandering discussion about how to define the terms Dark Lord or Dark Lady which Harry scarcely understood a word of. By the end of the book, Harry was left without the slightest clue how the term was defined except that it involved Dark magic. 

The various Dark Lords and Ladies didn’t seem to have anything in common except that they used Dark magic, and people were afraid of them, but if those were the only criteria then Draco’s father should be considered a Dark Lord based on what Ron said about the man.

Two days before the term started, Harry knocked on Professor Quirrell’s office door. 

“C-come in.”Professor Quirrell called.Harry opened the door and went inside.The professor looked exhausted and very jumpy, but had a few minutes to speak to Harry before he had to see to some other important task.Professor Quirrell had books and lesson plans scattered across his desk.

“I read the book by Cecelia Fextley, and I had a question Sir.”Harry said, sitting down in his customary place across from Professor Quirrell, the professor had at some point moved a second chair into his office, rather than having to conjure a new chair every time Harry came to see him.“Why are some wizards who use Dark magic called Dark Lords, but some aren’t?” 

“Ch-challenging q-q-question Mr. Evans.”Professor Quirrell said, blinking in surprise.“It is a m-matter of h-h-how p-people r-react.”Professor Quirrell began to explain, a curious, distant look coming over him.

“How people react, Sir?”Harry asking, hoping for something more.Professor Quirrell picked up his quill, and looked down at the papers on his desk.

Harry thought that the professor’s large, purple turban might fall right off his head, but it remained solidly in place, though the way the professor craned his neck left Harry looking straight at the turban, while Professor Quirrell’s face was thrown into shadow.

“Some crimes challenge society, Mr. Evans, while others do not.”Professor Quirrell said, his tone becoming smooth, and sharp, “Who do you fear more, a murderer or a soldier?”

“The murderer, but those aren’t the same thing Professor.”Harry said.Professor Quirrell continued staring down at his desk, quickly scribbling something on a parchment.

“Even if they have killed the same number of people?”Professor Quirrell asked.

“But a soldier is killing for a reason.”Harry said, though he wasn't entirely sure about that answer.The Professor remained silent for a moment.

“A soldier kills those who threaten a society, while a murderer kills those who live within society.”Professor Quirrell said.“The difference is then in whether or not a person kills on behalf of society or in opposition to society.”

“I guess, Sir.”Harry didn’t quite understand what the Professor meant by this, but he figured it would be best to go along with it if he wanted any answers.“What has this got to do with Dark Lords though?”Harry asked.

“Patience Mr. Evans.”Professor Quirrell didn’t look at Harry, or even move, but his tone made Harry go still, not even breathing for several seconds.

“There are many Dark witches and wizards in society, most practice only in secret, and present no substantial threat to those in power in our society.”Professor Quirrell continued, “Who, do you suppose, is in power in our society?”

“Er - well, there’s the Ministry of Magic, right?And the Minister.I read about the Wizengamot, and there’s a bunch of families that have seats on the Wizengamot.”Harry tried to explain, struggling to recall everything he'd learned of magical government, but felt that he was forgetting something.

“But who do we fear most, who do we go to such great lengths to please, to make ourselves hidden, and keep ourselves safe from?Mr. Evans, why do we live in hiding?”Professor Quirrell asked.Harry thought for a long time.

“Muggles?”Harry didn’t think that sounded quite right.Witches and wizards hid from Muggles, but that certainly wasn’t because they were afraid of Muggles, it was just because…well, Harry wasn’t sure exactly why that was, but he knew there was a law about it, so there had to be a good reason.

“Yes Mr. Evans, the Muggles.”Professor Quirrell said, his tone twisting into something cold, but Harry could not have taken his attention away from Professor Quirrell’s words, even if he wanted to.

“Our society lives in hiding, confined to what little land we have claimed for ourselves, forced to greater and greater lengths to avoid impinging on the lives of Muggles, though they impinge freely on ours.Do you understand?”

“I think so, Sir.”Harry could somewhat follow the professor’s argument, but he felt as though something cold was crawling beneath his skin, creeping through is veins.

Muggles weren’t like that, they were just people, they didn’t rule witches and wizards because they didn’t even know magic existed.It made no sense.Harry shook off the feeling, trying to pay attention, hoping that Professor Quirrell would eventually give him an answer to the question he’d asked.

“Dark witches and wizards, generally, do not threaten the structure of power in our society, they hide themselves, fearing retribution.Dark Lords though, do not hide themselves.The Dark Lord Grindelwald threatened to tear down the walls which separate Muggles from witches and wizards, he threatened to change the structure of power in our society.

"The Dark Lord Stithulf wished to bring about an era of animalism and freedom by infecting everyone, Muggle or magical, with lycanthropy; this opposed the very idea of civilization as a moral good, instead wishing to replace it with lawlessness and barbarity.

"The Dark Lord Wigheard Gnash wished to usurp the Ministry of Magic and replace it with a monarchy, himself as divine king.What have all of these men in common, Mr. Evans?”Professor Quirrell asked.

“I guess they wanted to change things, Sir.”Harry said, unsure of what kind of answer Professor Quirrell wanted.

“No.They did not simply wish to change _things_ as you say, they wished to change the very paradigm by which we live our lives; society, ethics, laws, our very existence, all of these bow before the greater pattern, a pattern which can be broken by those with the power to do so.”Professor Quirrell’s tone did not change in volume, but the combination of chillingly precise annunciation and audible passion lend the air a sort of tension, as though they were sitting below a brewing storm.

Harry was entranced. 

“Mere witches and wizards may bend these patterns, they may break laws, they may rebel against social norms, but Dark Lords are those who threaten the pattern of society’s existence, and such individuals cannot be allowed to exist within society because it would crumble beneath the weight of the ideas they carry with them.”Professor Quirrell went silent, and took a moment to collect himself, breathing harshly. 

“And so society turns on them. Dark Lords, by definition, have failed at their task.”  Professor Quirrell paused, shaking slightly, as though under great strain. 

“A successful Dark Lord is not called a Dark Lord, they are a visionary.”  With that, Professor Quirrell threw himself backward, slamming agains the back of his chair with a loud crack, taking a fast, jagged breaths. 

Harry jolted, having been so wholly drawn in my the professor’s speech that the noise came as a great shock.

“Mr. Evans, l-l-leave m-me.”Professor Quirrell said, his face having gone bloodless, and his body shaking as though on the verge of some kind of seizure.Harry remained still.

“Out, r-r-right n-now!”Professor Quirrell shouted, his voice strangled and wet sounding.Harry fled the office, whatever magic the professor had woven with his speech having broken.

Professor Quirrell’s office door closed behind Harry, leaving Harry standing alone in the empty Defense classroom.Harry could hear the professor speaking quietly, but the words were garbled and unintelligible through the thick, wooden door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is oblivious, and Voldemort has opinions about Dark Lords. I tried to imagine why anyone would be attracted to Voldemort's cause, so I did some reading on sociological theories about nationalism to try and get some ideas.


	21. A Simple Schoolyard Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence and bigotry.

Hermione came back to Hogwarts the next day.  Harry and Ron told her all about their holidays, and the mirror too.Hermione agreed with Ron that it sounded cursed, but she said she would do more research.

Harry kept silent about his discussion with Professor Quirrell, he’d usually told his friends about his meetings with the professor, but this one didn’t feel like something he ought to share.It seemed personal, like Professor Quirrell had given Harry, and Harry alone, that knowledge.Harry didn’t quite know what to think of the professor’s strange, and worrying behavior.

He hoped Professor Quirrell wasn’t getting sick.

When classes started up again, Harry had only finished four of the ten books Professor Quirrell recommended.

His weekly meetings with the Professor continued where they had left off, though neither Harry nor Professor Quirrell spoke of the conversation they’d had about Dark Lords.The only mention Harry made of the incident was to ask if Professor Quirrell was falling ill with something, and Professor Quirrell said that perhaps he’d been struggling with a bit of a cold during their last meeting.

Harry continued working his way through the list of books, bringing his questions to the professor after class each week.Hermione joined in Harry’s readings when she could, unwilling to be left out when research was involved, and occasionally told Harry a question or two she wanted him to ask the professor as well, if he had time.

The spring term passed in a haze of studying, meetings with Professor Quirrell, being dragged to increasingly muddy Quidditch games by Ron, and Harry learning the countercurses to various curses and jinxes Malfoy had picked up over the winter holidays.

Malfoy’s father had evidently been all too pleased to help his son learn a few things over the holidays, and Harry spent weeks trying to perfect the countercurses so he could sleep at night without having to worry about waking up with his legs stuck together or boils all over his skin. 

Hermione tried to convince him to report the curses to a professor, but Ron agreed with Harry that it was better to deal with it himself.  Hermione muttered something about boys, but let the issue drop.

After all, Harry had six more years of living with Malfoy to look forward too.  It was better to keep this a rivalry, rather than bringing in the professors and getting Malfoy’s parents involved, which they would inevitably become once Malfoy complained about the professors being unfair to him or some nonsense like that. 

It was Neville who pulled Harry aside and offered to teach Harry the countercurses, Neville knew them, though he wasn’t very good at casting them himself.In the months since Malfoy and Neville’s almost-duel, Neville had taken a keen interest in dueling, and whenever Malfoy was brought up he got a blank expression on his face, his eyes going hard.

No one was quite sure what to make of Neville’s hatred of Malfoy, but everyone agreed that it was somewhat worrying, coming from a boy who could hardly look at his professors without trembling and tearing up.Neville’s Gran, as it seemed, encouraged Neville’s interest in dueling with as much enthusiasm was Draco’s father encouraged his interest in curses.

The other first years were’t quite sure what to make of the matter, but some of the older students whispered about it, and Ron said he’d heard Percy saying something about Neville’s parents, but when Ron asked about it, Percy got upset enough to take points from Gryffindor.

“Maybe he’ll challenge Malfoy to another duel once he’s learned enough magic to end it quickly.”Ron suggested.

Hermione was aghast at the idea of Neville plotting to kill Malfoy in a duel, but Harry thought it might happen if things kept going the way they were.  Neville might need a few years, or maybe even a few decades, but if he kept going at it with the kind of intense focus he was staring at his dueling books when he should have been studying, Harry thought it likely Neville would win next time he and Malfoy challenged each other to a duel. 

The groundskeeper’s hut burned down one night in spring.Harry, Ron and Hermione, like many students, decided to take a walk around the grounds in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the smoldering ruins, and maybe even the red-cloaked Aurors who’d been called out to search the grounds.

The groundskeeper’s hut had been burned down by a magical creature of some sort, Ron whispered to Harry during potions that he thought it was a dragon. 

Ron’s brother studied dragons, he seemed very confident that he knew what sort of creature could burn a hut down like that and leave it smoldering for days afterwards.Hermione didn’t buy it, she said it was ridiculous to think that anyone would keep a dragon in their home, much less on the school grounds.

Surely, Hermione reasoned, it was just a candle that had fallen over, or perhaps a spark had gotten out of the fireplace and set a curtain alight, though neither of those explanations at all accounted for why Aurors would be called out to investigate.

Harry suggested arson, though why anyone would want to burn down the groundskeeper’s hut was a mystery to all three of them, the few times they’d met the groundskeeper, he seemed quite friendly, though perhaps a bit odd.

By the time Harry, Ron and Hermione found time to walk around the grounds, peering at the spot where the hut had stood across the grassy hills and gravel paths that led down toward the forest, little was left but a few charred pieces of wood, a pile of ashes, and a trail of smoke being carried off, over the forest by the wind.

“Definitely a dragon.”Ron said, using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he squinted at the ruins.

“We know Ron.”Hermione said, sounding rather annoyed.She’d heard Ron’s theory a dozen times already, but nothing she could find in any books supported the idea that it had been a dragon of all things that burnt the hut down.

Dragons were illegal to own in Britain anyway, and surely someone would have seen a dragon wandering the grounds.Hermione thought it a bit foolish to go look at a burnt down hut when exams were only two months away. 

“Look who it is, Weasley and his pets.”Draco called, wandering down one of the gravel paths with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy.They’d evidently been looking at the burnt hut too.

“Pets?”Ron snapped, spinning around to face Draco. 

“I suppose those two are a bit to feral to be anyone’s pets, but it’s not like you Weasleys can afford anything purebred.”Draco said, and Pansy held her hand up to her mouth, giggling a bit.Hermione and Harry grabbed Ron by the arms, preventing him from charging at Draco. 

“Ignore him, he’s not worth it.”She said, holding them back.

“At least my family’s not a bunch of murderers.”Ron shouted back.Pansy stopped giggling, and Draco tensed, his shoulders going rigid. 

“Your mother’s a Prewett right?I’ve heard what they did.My father proved his innocence in court, your uncles were put down like the killers they were before they ever reached trial.”Draco shouted back.

“Come on Ron, let’s get out of here.”Hermione said, trying to pull Ron away, realizing that this was quickly becoming a bit more than a schoolyard squabble.Harry released Ron’s arm, and turned to face Draco.

“I don’t remember the Malfoy’s being one of the Twenty-Eight, but I know the Weasleys and Prewetts are, who’s more pure now?”Harry added, putting all those genealogy books Professor Quirrell had him read to good use.Draco glared, Pansy’s eyes had gone as wide as saucers.

“Let’s go Pansy, we don’t need listen to blood-traitors and Mudbloods.”Draco said, annunciated every word.Pansy stepped back, as though burned, and Draco seemed to realize that he’d perhaps gone too far.Ron grabbed his wand in his free hand, and spat a leg-locking curse at Draco, and Harry charged forward while Draco was momentarily distracted.

Pansy scrambled backwards and fled back toward the castle.Hermione, realizing that her friends were in trouble, threw a leg-locking curse of her own in Crabbe’s direction.

The fight quickly spiraled out of control, Harry abandoned his efforts to curse Draco and opted to leap on the other boy, wrapping his arms around Draco’s neck.Goyle tried to jump on top of Harry to pull him off, but instead sent Harry and Draco both tumbling to the ground.

Ron jumped into the fray, and Hermione stood aside and got in a couple curses, and when those failed to end the fight, she got in a couple good kicks at well, unwilling to stand by while her friends were beat up.

“Stop this, stop this right now!”Professor McGonagall came running down the grassy hillside, and immediately took out her wand, forcibly separating Ron and Goyle, and leaving each levitating four feet off the ground, far enough apart from one another that they could do nothing but uselessly kick and shout. 

Harry was sent tumbling down the hill by spell that felt like a being pushed back by a gust of wind, he managed to grab one of Draco’s shoes, but Draco was levitated off in another direction.Crabbe was lifted up off the ground despite his attempts to flee as soon as he saw McGonagall coming, and he hung limply in the air, looking disappointed.

“One hundred and twenty points from Slytherin, and sixty points from Gryffindor.I am ashamed to see such actions from all of you.”Professor McGonagall looked at Ron and Hermione in particular, Ron’s nose dripped blood and the sleeve of his robes was torn, but Hermione looked relatively unruffled by the fight.

Harry had gotten a few tufts of hair pulled out, a couple bruises, and his glasses were cracked.Goyle had a bloody nose and a split lip, and Crabbe had a cut on his eyebrow, and assorted scratches on his arms.Draco was nursing his right hand, missing his left shoe, and he had a bit of blood in his hair, though Harry couldn’t tell if it was his own or not.

“Detention for all of you!”

“But Professor, he called them-“Ron began, but Professor McGonagall didn’t want to hear anything from any of them.They trudged back up to the castle behind her.Ron walked along next to Hermione and Harry.

“You don’t really believe any of that blood stuff, right?”Ron asked Harry.

“Of course not.”Harry scoffed.

“Then why’d you say it?The Sacred Twenty-Eight, that’s the kind of stuff his lot care about.”Ron said, tilting his head at Malfoy, who walked along with Crabbe and Goyle a short distance away.Only Pansy had escaped punishment, having been the one to run to find the nearest professor and inform them of the fighting.

“Exactly,” said Harry in a whisper, “Malfoy and his sort care about blood, I don’t.I knew it would make him mad if I brought it up.”Ron still looked uncomfortable.

“Sometimes I almost forget you’re in Slytherin, but then you go and say something like that.Just, please don’t go on about that kind of thing.I know you don’t believe it, but I don’t want you to use my blood to get back at Malfoy.”Ron explained, and Harry nodded, feeling ashamed.He hadn’t intended to use Ron in that way.

“Of course, sorry, I didn’t even think of that.”Harry said, he hadn't realized what it might feel like to Ron, having his family dragged into association with that kind of bigoted nonsense.Ron nodded, looking slightly appeased.

“Ron, were your uncles really…”Hermione asked in a whisper.Ron slumped.

“Yeah.”he said, “I didn’t know them, but my Mum’s brothers fought You-Know-Who and got killed.”Ron explained in a soft voice.Hermione gasped.

“How could he say those things about them?”she shot a glare in Malfoy’s direction, but Malfoy was facing Professor McGonagall’s back and took no notice.“Malfoy should be the one punished, not us.”Hermione said, resolve hardening in her gaze.

When they reached Professor McGonagall’s office, Hermione tried, again, to explain what had occurred.The Professor quickly quieted her down, chiding Hermione for trying to make excuses.Hermione fumed silently.

“I’m disgusted, six students fighting like Muggles.You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense, and Mr. Weasley, I expect better of my Gryffindors.”Professor McGonagall said.Harry noted, bitterly, that she said nothing about expecting better of Slytherins.

Professor McGongagall told them all to return to their dormitories for the night, making sure to give Harry a warning look, as he’d frequently been found “sneaking” into the Gryffindor common room.Harry would hardly call it sneaking, his friends let him in every time, and most of the Gryffidor students didn’t care one bit. 

Harry did not have a warm welcome in Slytherin, Pansy had arrived there first, and already begun to spread her own account of what happened.

Harry doubted that pointing out he’d been called a Mudblood by Malfoy would help.  He knew that many in his House wouldn’t exactly sympathize with a Muggleborn who’d beat someone up for being called a Mudblood, some of them would probably think it was true, that a Muggleborn was obviously a Mudblood, just a statement of the facts.  It would be easier to convince Ron that Muggles could fly than to convince some students in Slytherin that Muggleborn and Mudblood were not at all the same term.

Harry didn’t even think they all realized why people got so upset about being called that, they’d been raised using the word.Harry hid on his bed with the curtains closed, deciding he’d rather read than face his House anymore.Let them say what they wanted, Harry steeled himself and tried his hardest not to care one bit about it. 

It wasn’t until Terence came looking for him a few hours later, worried after Harry had missed dinner, that Harry explained what had happened.

Terence got a strangled look on his face when Harry recounted what he’d told Malfoy regarding the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but by the time Harry finished explaining, Terence looked more sympathetic. 

“I understand why you did it Harry, but you can’t go punching people in the face every time someone says the word Mudblood.It happens, and it’s going to keep happening.You can’t change society overnight, but if you’re patient and keep at it, maybe you can change things down the road, so that others don’t have to go through this same thing.”Terence explained, clearly trying to make Harry feel better.

Harry nodded, but Terence’s words hardly helped at all.

He didn’t want to make things better for future generations, he wanted to make things better for himself, and for people like Terence and Hermione, people he cared about.Harry lay in bed, wide-awake.

Terence’s words about slurs and Professor Quirrell’s speech about patterns in society and structures of power swirling around in his head until he fell into uneasy dreams filled with screaming and green light.

Harry woke up trembling, but the details of the dream escaped him, leaving him only with the feeling that he’d done a horrible thing, but he couldn’t recall what.By the time he went to breakfast, even those vague feelings had left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might seem like Draco is acting far worse than canon, and he is. Between sharing a dorm with Harry, and an ongoing feud with Neville, Draco is under a lot more pressure to defend, and prove his views, and protect his family's reputation. 
> 
> In canon, Harry and Draco were rivals, and Harry had the higher social status if anything, but in this AU Draco firmly believes Harry is inferior to him, and Harry's continued refusal to accept that is causing Draco to stand even more firmly behind his views.


	22. A Grave Misunderstanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of Filch and Hagrid's dialogue is from the book. Also, major warning for violence against animals and animal death in this one.

The loss of the hundred and twenty House points ended up being blamed on Harry, though he’d only lost thirty points personally, while the remaining ninety had been lost by Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.Most Slytherins hadn’t spoken much to Harry before then, but after the loss of points, they started avoiding speaking to him on purpose, and it was quite obvious. 

Terence and a few others continued to speak to Harry, but only when others weren’t paying attention, even they bowed to House pressure on occasion.Many students in Slytherin seemed quite willing to believe Malfoy and Pansy about Harry being some kind of madman just waiting for the opportunity to attack them all in their sleep, probably with a knife too, like a Muggle.

Harry stayed out of the Slytherin dorms as much as he could, either spending time in the library, or just wandering the castle until curfew if Ron and Hermione weren’t around.At least he had plenty of studying to keep his mind off the situation in Slytherin. 

Eventually Harry, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle received notes at breakfast informing them that their detention would begin at eleven o’clock that evening, and they were to meet Mr. Filch at the Entrance Hall.Glancing across the Great Hall, Harry could see Ron and Hermione had received notes as well.Harry had been hoping that Professor McGonagall might forget about the detentions entirely.

At eleven o’clock that night, the six of them met at the Entrance Hall, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle standing on one side of the entrance, while Harry, Ron and Hermione stood on the other.Filch arrived holding a lamp in one hand.

“Follow me.”he led them outside, across the grounds, muttering about work and pain and torture the entire way.Even Malfoy looked unnerved by Filch’s mutterings, as they were led further and further from the castle.

“Is that you, Argus?Hurry up, I want ter get started.”Harry vaguely recognized the groundskeeper’s voice, Hagrid, he thought that was the man’s name.They’d never really met.

“I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf?Well, think again, boys - it’s into the forest you’re going, and I’m much mistaken if you’ll come out all in one piece.”Filch growled.Malfoy froze, and even Crabbe and Goyle started to look concerned.

“The forest?”Malfoy asked, fear creeping into his voice.“We can’t go in there at night - there’s all sorts of things in there - werewolves, I heard.”Malfoy said, looking between Filch and the dark outline of the forest against the cloudy night sky.

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?”said Filch with a laugh, “Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t you?” 

“Abou’ time,”Hagrid said, walking into the dim circle of light cast by Filch’s lamp, he carried a massive wooden crossbow, and a huge hound walked along at his side.“I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already.”Hagrid said, looking over the group of huddled students.

“I wouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid, they’re here to be punished, after all.”Filch warned, “I’ll be back at dawn for what’s left of them,” he added with a nasty grin, before turning back toward the castle, taking his lamp with him.

As Filch departed, they were left standing in the dark. 

“I’m not going into that forest.”Malfoy said immediately, sounding quite afraid by now. 

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts.”Hagrid said, and Malfoy continued to complain, saying that these were servant’s tasks, and that his father would be very displeased to learn that the school had forced his son to do.

“If yeh think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an’ pack.Go on!”Hagrid said, and Malfoy seethed, but did not move.Hagrid looked at Crabbe, Goyle, and Harry, as though expecting further protests.While Crabbe and Goyle might not be very bright, they both certainly knew when to keep their mouths shut.

“Listen carefully, ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks.”Hagrid led them to the edge of the forest, and held up his lantern.A narrow path wound off into the forest.Something silver, like mercury, glittered in the lamp-light.

“See that stuff shinin’ on the ground there?”Hagrid asked, “That’s unicorn blood.There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat.This is the second time in a week.I found one dead last Monday.We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing.We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

Harry shivered, no one told him he might have to kill anything, but Harry knew perfectly well what it meant when an animal got _put out of its misery_ , he knew what Aunt Petunia had done with that puppy Aunt Marge gave Dudley a few years back.Harry certainly didn’t want to kill an animal as large as a unicorn.He hadn’t been taught any spells to do such a thing.

“And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” Malfoy asked, and Hermione nodded, it was a rather good question. 

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang.”Hagrid assured them. “An’ keep ter the path.We’re gonna split inter two parties an’ follow the trail in diff’rent directions.”

“I want Fang.”Malfoy said immediately, looking at the massive hound that sat by Hagrid’s side.

“All right, but I warn yeh, he’s a coward.”Hagrid said, “Slytherins with Fang, an’ the rest a yeh with me.”Hagrid said.Ron and Hermione quickly went to Hagrid’s sides, standing close by the large man.Ron at least gave Harry a sympathetic look, but seemed happy enough not to be the one stuck in the Forbidden Forest with Malfoy.

At least Harry could rely on Crabbe and Goyle not to do anything too stupid, they weren’t the sharpest boys, but they seemed to have better sense that Malfoy at least.

“Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right?Get yer wands out an’ practice now - that’s it - an’ if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an’ we’ll come an’ find yeh - so, be careful.Let’s go.”Hagrid said, once he was satisfied that all of them could send up sparks.

Harry, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle started down the narrow, winding path, all of them with their wands out to light the way.Fang walked a little ways in front of them, occasionally sitting down and waiting for them to catch up.

Inside the forest, their lights did little good, the thick undergrowth and hanging tree branches obscured everything more than a couple feet off of the path.

Very soon, the sounds of Hagrid, Ron and Hermione walking the other way faded into the sounds of the forest, bugs chirping, frogs belching, and the occasional rustle of leaves or snap of a twig as some animal moved about. 

“Unicorns are like horses right?”Harry asked.Harry remembered some documentary on the telly about horses, and how they’d have to be put down if they broke their legs or something like that.He wondered if unicorns were the same way.

“Muggle stupidity.”Malfoy muttered, “Of course they’re not horses, they’re magical creatures.Unicorns are intelligent, they can heal people.”Malfoy explained, carefully stepping around a spot of silvery blood.

Something whistled through the air.Malfoy froze, an arrow lodged in the trunk of a tree just inches in front of his face with a thunk.A branch snapped somewhere nearby.There was a quiet whistle, and something flew through the air, hitting a tree trunk some ways off the trail. 

Malfoy ran without warning, sprinting off into the woods and abandoning the trail entirely.Fang began to howl, following Malfoy at a loping run. 

“Evans, run.”Crabbe hissed, giving Harry a hard shove from behind.That was enough to jolt Harry out of the terrified state he’d fallen into upon seeing the arrow.

Harry ran, quickly putting out the light charm, but trying to stay on the trail as best he could so that he wouldn’t become lost.He heard footsteps behind him, and he kept running, trying to move a little faster.Just like Harry Hunting he told himself, just keep running. 

Harry came to a stop, hiding behind a massive tree trunk.He turned, Goyle had wedged himself right behind Harry, but Malfoy, Crabbe, and Fang were nowhere to be seen.Harry held up his wand, making a dim light.Goyle looked sweaty and terrified, and Harry could hardly catch his breath and felt his heartbeat all through his body.

“What was that?”Harry whispered.They hadn’t been warned about any people living in the Forest, but Harry didn’t know of any magical creatures that made bows and arrows. Did goblins make bows and arrows?Harry thought they’d be plenty smart enough, but he doubted any goblins would bother to live in the Forbidden Forest.

Malfoy had mentioned werewolves, but Harry wasn’t sure why werewolves would live in the Forbidden Forest, surely that would be a bit difficult for most of the month?Maybe they used bows and arrows to hunt during all the time they weren’t wolves. 

“Dunno.”Goyle whispered back, “Erklings?”Harry hadn’t a clue what an Erkling was.“Should we make some sparks?”Goyle asked.

“Of course!”Harry had completely forgotten.The two of them sent up a stream of red sparks into the air, which quickly vanished into the tree tops.They waited.In the pale light of their light charms, unicorn blood glittered on the trail, and on nearby rocks and leaves.

“I think there’s more blood here.”Harry whispered.Goyle nodded.“It can’t be far now, can it?”Harry hadn’t heard any sign of their attackers, and he cautiously walked out from behind the tree he and Goyle had hidden behind.A little further down the trail blood had been splashed across the roots of a tree, and more smeared on nearby underbrush.

Harry knelt down and cautiously poked a bit of blood with his finger tip, Goyle walked up behind him, looking over his shoulder.The blood was still wet, Harry wiped his fingertip off on his robes.

“Evans.”Goyle said, pulling Harry’s robes, “Look there.”Harry stood up and looked where Goyle pointed.There was the unicorn.It lay on the ground, barely moving, just a few paces off the trail in a small clearing.Harry could see what Malfoy meant, this was certainly not a horse. 

The angles were all wrong for a horse, its limbs too thin, its fur almost glowing against the dead leaves which littered the ground.Stranger still, a hooded figure stood over the unicorn, clearly a human being.

“Hey you!”Goyle shouted, stomping forward through the underbrush.“What’d you do to it?”Harry followed, wand drawn, not about to let Goyle get himself killed.

Unicorn blood dripped from the hooded figure’s sleeves, and there were smears of the stuff all over its robes.Harry felt as though someone had tried to drive a nail through his forehead.

He staggered, falling to his knees, but Goyle continued stomping toward the hooded figure, wand drawn, and as fearsome a glare as a particularly large eleven year old could manage on his face. 

As soon as it heard Goyle, the hooded figure fled.The hooded figure certainly looked human, but the way it moved was clearly not human at all, it crawled along the ground like some kind of animal, and gave a low hiss, before bolting into the underbrush and vanishing.

They didn’t hear a single leaf crinkle or twig break underfoot as it ran.The pain in Harry’s head only took a minute or two to pass, leaving him rubbing at his forehead.

“What was that?”Harry asked, creeping to Goyle’s side, but Goyle was no longer looking for the hooded figure.His eyes remained glued to the unicorn.  

“I don’t think it’s going to make it.”Goyle said, stepping closer to the dying unicorn.Blood pooled underneath it, soaking into the ground, and walking closer, Harry could see what Goyle meant.

The unicorn’s throat had been ripped apart, blood bubbled out from the wounds as the unicorn tried to breath.Its eyes were glazed, and blood dripped from its open mouth.It made a quiet, rasping noise.Something painful coiled in Harry’s chest looking at the dying unicorn.

“Hagrid said we might have to put it out of its misery.”Harry said, his voice sounding dull, but that’s what Hagrid had said they might have to do.Goyle looked at him in shock, but then looked back at the unicorn, struggling to breathe, and nodded.

“My dad taught me a spell.I think…none of our school spells will do it right.”Goyle explained, haltingly, looking at though he expected Harry to become angry. 

“Alright.”Harry agreed.Goyle was right, if they were to make this quick, and painless, none of their school spells would do it.Sure, they could probably kill a unicorn with a levitation charm or a bluebell fire, but that’d be to horrifying to even consider.

This was going to be a mercy, not a torture.Harry was sure Muggle veterinarians had special medicines to do the job, but Harry and Goyle had nothing except their wands, so Hagrid must have meant that they ought to use magic to do it.

“The spell is _Diffindo_ , it cuts things.”Goyle said, showing Harry the wand movements (a simple swipe with a forceful prod).“You’ve gotta mean it.”Goyle advised.The unicorn made a horrible noise, it’s breathing growing strained, and blood bubbling from its throat and splattering over its fur.Harry wondered if it knew what they were talking about.

If unicorns were magical, did that make them any smarter than a normal horse?The unicorn made no further sound, but its labored breathing continued.

“I will.”Harry assured him.They took positions on either side of the unicorn’s head.They didn’t know how to strike it dead instantly, but they could certainly make a messy neck wound into a quicker, cleaner one, and let the poor creature pass without slowly drowning in its own blood.

“Ready?”Harry asked, Goyle grunted in assent.Harry looked into the unicorn’s eyes, but didn’t see anything there, no spark, no consciousness.He dearly hoped he was doing what was best.

“On zero.”Harry said, readying his wand.Goyle did the same.“Three - two - one - _Diffindo.”_ They both chanted.There was a flash of white light, a wet tearing, and a low sigh.Harry felt something warm and wet splatter across his face and arms.

Opening his eyes, he saw Goyle staring at the unicorn, covered in silvery blood.Harry though he must look much the same.

They sat like that for some minutes, the unicorn passed in silence, but Goyle and Harry continued to sit by its head, Goyle even gently stroked the unicorn’s nose as it finally stopped breathing.

It was only several minutes after the deed was done that they heard stomping and voices.Two people on horses, no, Harry blinked up at them, centaurs, came into the cleared, bows drawn.

“What have you done?”One of them demanded, lips drawn into a snarl.The other aimed his bow at them, disgust etched into every line in his face.

Hagrid, followed by Hermione, Ron, Crabbe and Malfoy came stomping into the clearing moments later, eyes widening at the sight of the dead unicorn, and Harry and Goyle covered in the unicorn’s blood.

“Don’t shoot.”Hagrid roared, putting himself between the centaurs and Harry and Goyle.

“They have killed a unicorn.”one of the centaurs said in a low, hard voice.

“There’s been summat killing the unicorns near two weeks now.”Hagrid said, “It wasn’ these two.”

“Look at its neck, that is the work of wizards.”the other centaur said, bow still drawn.Hagrid turned, glancing over his shoulder at the unicorn.His expression crumpled upon seeing the clean cut in its throat, alongside the torn flesh. 

“What’d yeh go an’ do that for?”Hagrid asked, his eyes glittering with sadness.

Goyle remained crouched, a hand on the unicorn’s nose, and Harry didn’t think he was all there anymore.Harry stood up. 

“You said we might have to put it out of its misery Mr. Hagrid.”Harry said, trembling, all they’d done was what Hagrid told them to do, and now everyone was angry with them for it.

“I never meant yeh ter-“Hagrid began shouting, but quieted, turning back to to the centaurs, “They found her dying an’ did the rest.It’s no students that’s been huntin’ in yer forest.”Hagrid said, tone growing firm.“Look at her neck.”

One of the centaurs lowered his bow, and carefully stepped forward, looking down at the unicorn’s body.

“He speaks the truth Bane, there are other wounds that are not a spell’s doing.”the centaur said.The other centaur slowly, and grudgingly lowered his bow. 

“Always the innocent are the first victims,”the centaur said, gazing at Harry and Goyle, “Hagrid, get these students out of the forest.If they return, they will not be welcomed here.”with that the centaur turned and fled, the other following shortly after.

Hagrid put down his crossbow, and walked over to Harry and Goyle.The other students stood close together, but dared not come any closer to the dead unicorn.

“I didn’t mean for yeh two to kill her, what I said, I jus’ meant I’d put her down if the wounds got ter bad.Not yeh two.”Hagrid explained, helping Goyle to his feet.“Let’s get all yeh back to school.I’ll come back lat’r.”

As they walked back toward the school, six students trailing Hagrid and Fang, Harry turned to Goyle.

“You okay?”Harry whispered.Goyle shook his head.“Me either.”Harry said.Harry decided he wouldn’t mention the fact that there’d only been one cut in the unicorn’s throat.

Harry hadn’t a clue which of them had cast the spell successfully and which one had cast the spell that failed, that flash of light from the space had blinded him for a moment.

Ron and Hermione said goodbye once they reached the castle, heading back up to Gryffindor tower for the rest of the night.Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Harry were escorted back to Slytherin dungeons by Hagrid, who walked them all the way to the common room entrance.

“‘Aven’t bin ‘ere in a long time.”Hagrid said as they walked toward the common room, “Everything still freeze’n come win’er time?”Hagrid asked.

“Yes, Mr. Hagrid.”Harry said.Malfoy and Crabbe had walked out ahead, not wanting to stand near Harry and Goyle, covered in unicorn’s blood as they were. 

“None ’a that, it’s jus’ Hagrid.”Hagrid said, though his smile looked fixed and stiff. “G’night ter yeh four.”Hagrid said, waving goodbye as they walked into the common room.The wall reappeared behind them.

“Finally free of that oaf.”Malfoy said, making for the showers. 

Harry took off his bloody robes and put them in the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom.He lay down, intending to get up in a few minutes, once Malfoy was done in the showers.

Harry woke up in the morning to find his dirty robes had been left in a pile on his bed, even though he was sure he’d placed them in the hamper the night before.Harry dropped the blood splattered robes back in the dirty laundry and went to shower, he could feel the dirt and dried blood clinging to his skin.


	23. An Offer He Can't Refuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters might take awhile, I've got a lot on my plate. There will be 2-3 chapters more at most, but I always struggle with endings.

Harry dropped the robes stained with unicorn blood in the dormitory’s dirty laundry hamper.When he next walked past his bed, those blood-stained robes lay haphazardly on his unmade bed, as though thrown from a great distance.

Harry tried again to put the robes in the laundry, only to find them on his bed less than an hour later.After a few more tries, Harry noticed a set of black robes smeared with silvery blood, now dried to a dull-gray stain, hanging over the end of Goyle’s unmade bed.

Every other bed in the dormitory was made, every other piece of laundry would be returned, cleaned and folded, to the owner’s trunk.Harry asked Goyle about the robes, and he only shrugged, and stuffed the offending robes into the bottom of his trunk.

Harry tried to put his stained robes in the laundry a few more times before following Goyle’s lead.Clearly the laundry at Hogwarts wouldn’t have anything to do with unicorn blood.

It took a few days longer before Harry saw that the corner of the dormitory where he and Goyle slept has slowly become dirtier.Bits of parchment, quill trimmings, crumbs and dust remained exactly as they were in that corner, while the rest of the dorm was kept spotlessly clean.

Harry even decided to do a little test before dinner one evening, crumpling up two pieces of parchment and throwing them on the floor, one next to his bed, the other over by Theodore’s bed.After dinner, the crumpled parchment by Theo’s bed was gone, but the parchment on the floor next to Harry’s bed remained exactly where it had been dropped.

Harry’s bed would no longer be made unless he made it himself in the morning, his belongings remained scattered about where he left them, and once the stained robes were in his trunk, his laundry would be left at the foot of his bed rather than in his trunk as it had been.

It might have simply been his own imagination, but Harry thought that even the food at meals seemed to be placed a little further away from him than usual, his favorite foods arranges on platters just slightly out of reach, and his goblet never more than halfway full.

“Does Hogwarts hate us now?”Harry asked Goyle, who had seemingly not noticed, or not cared about their corner of the dormitory slowly becoming dirtier and dirtier.

“Dunno, maybe it’s the elves.”Goyle suggested.His own bed was scattered with dirty clothes and bits of used parchments and crumbs from rolls he smuggled back into the dormitory at night as a midnight snack.Goyle simply kicked his dirty laundry off of his bed before tucking in for the night.Harry hoped that the castle didn’t have any rats, Aunt Petunia always told him that if he tried to sneak food into his cupboard, the crumbs would attract rats.

With exams just around the corner, Harry didn’t have time to investigate too deeply, and Goyle didn’t seem concerned about the entire affair.How dirty could the dormitory get?They had only a few short weeks left of the term, and surely the dormitory would be cleaned after the students cleared out for the summer.

Harry told Ron and Hermione about his dirty dormitory of course, but between the three of them they couldn’t come up with any answers, though Ron mentioned that unicorn blood was supposed to be cursed.Harry thought that perhaps that was something Hagrid should have warned them about before sending them out to track down a dying unicorn, but thinking about that entire night, Harry found it difficult to be angry with anyone other than himself.

During dinner, only a few days exams began, a barn owl swooped silently over the Slytherin table, and dropped a scrap of parchment on Harry’s plate.Harry wiped a bit of gravy off of the letter, and read it through.Professor Quirrell wanted to meet with him after dinner.Harry smiled, that was the best news he’d heard all week.

“Hello Professor.”Harry greeted as he took his usual seat in Professor Quirrell’s office later that evening. 

Professor Quirrell’s office looked as though a storm had recently passed through, papers were scattered on every surface, books were piled about on the desk and floor, a quill lay on the desk dribbling ink, and a large cage took up much of the desk. 

Inside the cage sat a barn owl, perhaps even the same one that had delivered Professor Quirrell’s note, though it had a distinctly unhappy look on its face as it shuffled about in the cage.

“H-h-hello Mr. Evans.”If the office looked bad, Professor Quirrell looked worse, Harry hadn’t seen the professor in several days.Rumor had it that Quirrell had fallen ill, and looking at Professor Quirrell, Harry easily believed that. 

The professor had become thinner in recent weeks, such that his robes hung off his shoulders, and beneath the professor’s eyes were dark bags.He looked as though he hasn’t slept in a very long time, and even for a man as fearful as Professor Quirrell, he was unusually jumpy.Every noise the owl made caused Professor Quirrell to twitch ever so slightly in his seat. 

“Are you alright Professor?”  Harry asked, the more he examined the professor, the more concerned he became.

“Y-y-yes Mr. Evans, I am w-w-well.”Professor Quirrell said, looking at the door behind Harry’s back. 

“Have you got any new books for me Sir?I’m sorry, but I haven’t been able to finish the book from last week, Hermione’s been making me study all the time.”Harry explained, somewhat apologetically.Professor Quirrell had lent him a book titled _Fur and Fang: A History of Infectious Curses_ by Mortimer Harker III.It was a long, and rather boring history of werewolves, vampires, and the like.Harry had scarcely even gotten through the first chapter in the last week, he’d been rather busy.

“N-no Mr. Evans, n-n-not t-today.”Professor Quirrell said.Instead, he rifled through his desk drawers for a few minutes, and pulled out a sheaf of parchment and a black quill with an oily iridescence about it.He pushed both the parchment and quill across his desk, toward Harry.

“You h-h-have b-been a r-rare k-kind of s-student Mr. Evans.”Professor Quirrell began, “I w-w-will n-not be t-teaching here n-next t-t-term, b-but I w-would like y-you t-t-to c-continue as my s-student.”Harry read only the first line on the parchment, and felt as though his stomach had flipped around in his gut.

“An apprentice?”Harry asked, quickly reading through the rest of the document, “Professor, I….”Harry didn’t even know where to start, he had so many questions, “I don’t even know what that means.”Harry couldn’t quite believe this was happening, he’d expected another book to read, or maybe a chance to say goodbye to Professor Quirrell before the end of the term, but not _this_.

Harry vaguely knew what an apprentice was in Muggle terms, though only from some television show about knights and castles that Dudley liked to watch.Harry hadn’t a clue what an apprentice was among witches and wizards, but here he was, holding a contract which Professor Quirrell had already signed, and which only required Harry’s own signature to make the entire thing official.

“Thank you Professor, but can I have some time to think about this?”Harry asked, Professor Quirrell had already given him a quill, and clearly expected him to sign it right away, but Harry needed to talk this over with someone.Maybe Hermione would know more about apprenticeships, or maybe Ron would know about magical apprenticeships.“The contact says this would be a ten year agreement, I need time to think about it before I agree.”Harry explained, seeing Professor Quirrell’s disappointment.

“Of c-c-course Mr. Evans.”Professor Quirrell sounded quite unhappy, but did not disagree with Harry.“T-t-take all the t-t-time you r-require.” Professor Quirrell’s gaze flickered about his office, eventually landing on the caged owl on his desk.

“Is that everything Professor?”Harry wasn’t sure what else they had to talk about, and he needed to go find Ron and Hermione as soon as he could to show them the contract, he could still scarcely believe this was occurring.It felt a bit like a dream, except Harry supposed that if he were dreaming, then maybe Professor Quirrell wouldn’t smell so bad.

“Th-there is one m-m-more thing.”Professor Quirrell said, “D-do you h-h-have a p-pet Mr. Evans?”

“No Sir.”Harry said, confused at the sudden turn the conversation had taken.Professor Quirrell nodded sharply.

“I w-w-will b-be…indisposed in t-the n-n-near f-future.”Professor Quirrell said, then waved a hand at the caged barn owl.“I w-w-would l-leave N-Nemesis in the s-s-school owlry, b-b-but she m-might f-fight with t-the other owls.”The barn owl snapped her beak a few times, as though to prove the professor’s point.

Harry imagined the school would not appreciate an ill-tempered owl being set loose in the owlry. 

“Nemsis? That’s, er, quite a name.”Why anyone would name their owl such a thing was beyond Harry.Why not something nice like Wilgefortis, or Hildegund?Professor Quirrell gazed at the owl.

“G-Greek g-g-goddess of f-fortune.”Professor Quirrell said, “C-Could you c-c-care f-for her in m-my absence?” 

The Dursleys would be _thrilled_ if Harry came back to Privet Drive with a large, angry owl in tow.Harry could scarcely imagine what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon might do, magic had been hard enough for them, but an owl, living in the house?

“Of course Professor.”Harry agreed, wondering if he might be able to convince Ron to take in the owl for the summer.At least Ron’s family already had a couple owls, surely one more wouldn’t make too much of a difference.

Professor Quirrell cast a quick _tempus_ , checking the time.

“Mr. Evans, I t-think it is t-t-time f-for you to g-go to b-bed.”Professor Quirrell said, though it was not very late at all.Harry stood and gathered his thinks, the apprenticeship contract and Nemesis in her cage.

“Can I tell you my decision about the apprenticeship in a few days?”Harry asked.Professor Quirrell signed, and nodded, though he looked as though he wanted to object.

“Goodnight Professor.”Harry said, making for the office door.When Professor Quirrell didn’t immediately respond, Harry glanced back over his shoulder.Professor Quirrell remained sitting at his desk, a wretched look on his face.He must still be feeling sick, Harry realized, no wonder the professor was trying to hurry their meeting to a close, he must still be getting over his illness.“I hope you feel better soon.”Harry added.

As Harry hurried down the hallway, owl and contract in hand, he heard a strange noise coming from behind him.A muffled hacking noise, like sobbing, or choking.Coughing, Harry corrected himself, Professor Quirrell must simply be coughing.Harry hoisted the owl cage in his arms, ignoring Nemesis’s annoyed hiss, and began the long trek to the library to find Hermione and Ron.


End file.
